


Cherry Lips

by shittystorywriter



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Cartman is insane, F/F, Horror, Hostage Situations, Inappropriate Humor, Infatuation, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Running Away, Stupidity, Trolling, Video & Computer Games, Virtual Worlds, buttman, cross dressing, roleplaying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-12-16 18:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 49,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11834166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittystorywriter/pseuds/shittystorywriter
Summary: Kyle and Cartman are drawn into a trashy virtual world, where they develop online personas as trolls and female strippers. Kyle soon realizes that Cartman's creepiness extends well beyond the game. Cartman realizes that he's insane, and that somebody has a crush on him. Plenty of ridiculous drama and craziness.





	1. Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story is stupid. It contains cringe, absurdity, possibly offensive humor, cursing, perversion, hostage situations, and insane characters.

_(Kyle's POV)_

In my real life, I'm just some average guy, living a boring life in a small town. In my virtual life, I'm a professional troll and a voluptuous brunette woman named Freya.

The shenanigans all started when Cartman introduced me to this stupid online game. To be precise, it's not even really a game, since there's no real objective or anything. The graphics aren't great, but you can do stuff like harass people and run around with a floppy dildo strapped to your avatar's forehead. Naturally, I felt curiously drawn in to this strange metaverse.

Like much of the internet, the game's userbase comprises a bizarre world of unusual and degenerate strangers. Little did we know, we'd soon be joining the ranks of virtual degeneracy ourselves.

In the beginning we found it very amusing, since it was a great place to troll. We spent hours pissing off other users, some who seemed to take the virtual world very seriously. We had a lot of great laughs from our trolling adventures in cyberspace.

Stan and Kenny joined too, but Stan quickly got bored of it, and Kenny's shitty computer would always crash, so he quit. That left just me and Cartman, two brave trolls on the virtual frontier. We had so much fun taking the piss out of other people who played the game that we didn't even see ourselves getting sucked into it.

Things took a turn for the worst when, after a month, when summer ended and school had begun again, we would come home every day and log on to the game, playing it for hours until late at night. We never ran out of things to do. The only problem was that we had no virtual money. Cartman tried to start a virtual pyramid scheme as well as a fake cancer donation scam, but that didn't work out. Defeated and broke, we vented our frustration by shooting flying dicks at innocent users with rifles.

Eventually, big chunks of our nights and weekends were being occupied by this pointless game. Stan and Kenny were starting to get annoyed with us for ditching them so many times to play it.

I guess it was inevitable that our accounts got banned from the game for harassing users. You'd think we would have quit then, but instead we just made new accounts. This time around, we made our new avatars into "sexy" ladies. But again, we faced a problem: we wanted to buy new clothes for our avatars, but still we had no virtual money, which lead us to try and find virtual jobs. Not many places were hiring, so in desperation we joined a strip club to make some quick virtual cash.

If my mom knew that I was spending less time on school work to watch a virtual chick swing around a pole, she'd probably throw my PC out the window. I had to be very careful in making sure she didn't walk in on anything risque.

Things really hit a low point when Cartman met a shady man in a leopard print thong at the strip club, who suggested we become virtual prostitutes to make more money. He said that prostitutes who speak on the microphone earn a lot more, and suggested we use voice changer software to sound like women. Now, any sane person at this point would stop and think "What the hell am I doing with my life?" - and that thought did flash through my head. But Cartman suggested that we could make easy money by baiting horny men, convincing them to pay us for voice sex, and then disappearing with their money without actually whoring ourselves out. It sounded like a simple enough plan, so I decided to go along with it.

Apparently a lot of men fell for it, so we spent the next few weeks taking advantage of gullible and desperate horny old guys. It worked great, we made thousands of virtual dollars from our scam. It was admittedly pretty funny to pretend to be women and lead them on, but I knew that this game was really a waste of time and that I should be getting back to "real life". We had our shits and giggles already, so you'd think I would have had the common sense to just quit.

But nope. I just kept playing the game. Logging on every day, spending my free time online, ignoring my friends and the outdoor air. I was getting hooked on this shitty pixel world. It was easy to see that Cartman was addicted as well.

At school we would anxiously await getting home so we could log on to the game. One day, Cartman didn't show up to school. I knew he had skipped, because we were up playing online all night, so he was probably tired. Lucky bastard, my parents would never let me skip school. When I got home and logged on, I saw him online.

I sent him an IM. "Hey fatass, playing hookie today?"

"Nevermind that Jew, just come see my new place!" He teleported me to a big mansion on a large beach front property with palm trees. Apparently he had purchased it while I was at school. "Nice, how'd you get the money for this?" I asked.

"Let me tell you all about it..." and then he proceeded to explain how he had made "connections" with a guy named Rico, who knew of ways to make easy virtual money, if we could follow his advice discretely and keep our mouths shut about it. I was intrigued. We spent the next week running a scam where we sold virtual knockoff luxury goods for Rico. He let us keep a percentage of the profits.

By the end of the week, we had bought new clothes, furnished our mansion, and were living the lives of high class virtual bitches.

It was now official, we were becoming the very type of losers we used to laugh at. And I still was not ready to quit.


	2. Do Not Read

_(Kyle's POV)_

For the past two months, I've made up all kinds of excuses just to avoid leaving my room and hanging out with my friends. Stan and Kenny can probably guess that I've been playing that dumb videogame with Cartman, since we sometimes talk about it at school.

What they don't know is that we have gotten way more immersed in it recently. We used to play the game just to troll, but now we actually have a virtual life on there. We made more virtual money, and opened up our own nightclub called The Cat's Meow. It's pretty cheesy, and was mostly Cartman's idea. The club's interior is decked out in a purple and black theme, and all of our dancers wear cat masks. We severed ties with Rico, and now make money from the nightclub.

Our characters are dancers at our club now. Cartman's avatar is a blonde named CherryBombAngel, and mine is a brunette named FreyaCutiePie. When we're at the club we dress them in matching latex cat costumes, with masks and tails. It turns out, roleplaying a sexy trashy cat woman can actually be..kind of fun?

Our avatars even have matching ass tattoos. Don't ask me how it progressed to this. It's just how things seem to be rolling.

As soon as I get home from school, I grab something to eat before turning on my computer and logging into the game.

Cherry is already online when I log in. She's laying on a lounge, wearing a tight PVC dress and matching boots.

"Oh hi sexy" I jokingly type.

CherryBombAngel: hello hottie ;)

CherryBombAngel: Come over here bb

I click the lounge and now our avatars are cuddling. Yep, this is not weird at all. Roleplaying online as slutty lesbians with a guy I've known since preschool, who is supposed to be my frenemy. It started as a joke, but things have been getting progressively weirder. Now I can't tell if he's seriously got a boner for my avatar, or is just doing this to creep me out.

Either way, it's entertainment. There's nothing better to do in this shitty town, so I continue logging in to the game every day.

* * *

It's just past midnight, and I've only now gone to bed. I have to wake up early for school tomorrow. I'm trying to sleep, but I can't stop cringing after what happened online tonight.

I was right, Cartman has a boner for my avatar. He's been trying to get into her pants, which is not only weird but pathetic. But it's become increasingly apparent over the years I've known him that Cartman possesses very little internal sense of dignity. He also has a filthy sense of humor. After he asked for the third time if our avatars could scissor, I told him to fuck off. Then he proceeded to ask what his avatar needed to do to get to third base with my avatar.

I explained that Freya is a classy lady and would like to be taken on a date somewhere nice before she goes that far, _if_ she is in the mood.

So Cherry took her to a beautiful virtual field. The sky was dark but moonlit. There was a big oak tree with a blanket on the ground nearby. Our avatars sat on the blanket for a minute and watched the starry sky. It was kind of cool until..

CherryBombAngel: OK, wanna go back to our place and scissor now?

FreyaCutiePie: Nope

CherryBombAngel: Bitch, you said we would do it after a date. The date is over so come on

I knew he wasn't going to quit. Christ, I guess this is how it feels to be a woman being pressured to do things on a first date. 

FreyaCutiePie: Fine, but I'm probably going to go make myself a sandwich while you're jerking off to 3D characters

CherryBombAngel: OK, whatever

I won't go into the explicit details of our virtual sexcapades, but they involved strap-ons, dildos, leather, ropes and several incredibly unrealistic looking sex positions. As I sat in front of my PC, watching these very NC-17 acts unfold in horror, I felt oddly violated. I know Cartman is just doing this to mess with me, as usual. He probably gets a kick out of it.

I logged off in shame.

* * *

The next morning, standing next to Cartman at the bus stop is awkward. He keeps wiggling his eyebrows at me and laughing. Stan and Kenny don't know what it's about. I roll my eyes. Later at school, he keeps following me and making obscene cunnilingus gestures with his fingers and tongue. During math class, he turns around in his seat, grinning at me while making a motion like he's squeezing a woman's tits. God dammit, I still don't why I'm friends with this guy. I try to ignore his desperate need for attention, but Kenny starts laughing and we get in trouble with the teacher.

At the end of the day, I try to make a beeline for the door, but Cartman somehow catches up and pokes me in the shoulder. "Sup, ginger?"

"Tubby tits," I reply in acknowledgement.

"Speaking of tits, your avatar has a great pair," he grins.

Oh god, this is pathetic. "And yours is a perverted whore..or maybe that's just _you,_ " I roll my eyes.

"Well, now I know that you're as much of a kinky whore as I am, you _dirty girl,_ " he smirks.

I shiver at the way he says that, and _not_ in a good way. "No. That was totally your idea, not mine," I argue. "Seriously, don't drag me into your weird virtual fetish."

"But you went along with it. By the way, I jerked off twice last night," he casually informs me. God damn, he really has no dignity at all.

"I did NOT need to know that!" I cringe.

"But it was great. You're such a dirty skank, Freya," he winks.

I look at him in disgust. "Woah woah woah..don't refer to _me_ as my damn game character. That's just weird."

"I know, Kahl. It should be obvious that I'm _trying_ to freak you out. You're such a puritan quaker oats bastard that you can't even handle a dirty joke," he snickers.

"No, I can't handle you being a perverted weirdo, especially if you're gonna start acting like this at school every day now," I glare at him.

"Oh get over it Kahl, we're teenagers, it's normal to be perverted at our age. Lighten up a little." Cartman puts an arm around my shoulder, and I shrink away from him.

"That doesn't make it OK to act like a creep. And don't touch me!" I smack his arm.

"Whatever, you seriously need to get that sand out of your vagina. I'll see you online later right?" he asks, grinning widely.

As much as I want to say no, I know that I have no life and nothing better to do. "I guess so. But we're not doing any of that lesbian BDSM roleplaying shit again."

Cartman frowns. "Aww, you're no fun.."


	3. An Unexpected Pregnancy

_(Cartman's POV)_

My name is CherryBombAngel, but you can call me Cherry for short. I'm a tall, curvy woman with red lips and long blonde hair, styled like something from a Victoria's Secret magazine. I always look flawless, and know how to dress for any occasion. My fabulous wardrobe is always growing.

I'm a sassy chick who gets what she wants. I'm also a professional dancer, but if you're looking for a personal dance, you oughta know I don't charge cheap.

My partner in crime is a sexy brunette. We have to hustle in this dirty world so that we have a nice place to live together. A quiet place to go to get away from all the perverts and creeps who want to grab our titties. She helps out with our finances, but occasionally disappears to go do something called "studying" in another realm. I help her sometimes with the wardrobe, since she is severely fashionably challenged. It's important for us as club owners that we look hot.

Today I am putting on a special show dedicated to my babe..yes, MINE. I will slap a bitch if anyone tries to lay their pervy hands on her.

It's 8PM and we have a relatively large crowd in the audience. Freya has a seat in the front row reserved for her. I come out on the stage, dressed in a fancy burlesque costume with matching jewelry and heels. My hair is curled and has a peacock feather in it.

CherryBombAngel: Hello guys and gals, welcome to The Cat's Meow, today we have a special show for you all. I wanna dedicate this to the lovely Freya ;)

My backup dancers come out on stage and the music starts playing. We start dancing in a sexy synchronized dance. The song is "I touch myself". I purposely picked this song just to make Kyle uncomfortable. Oh how I love torturing Kyle.

The backup dancers and I do synchronized turns, swaying our hips like performers from a 1920's burlesque.

_I don't want anybody else_

_When I think about you, I touch myself_

_Oh, I don't want anybody else, oh, no_

_Oh, no, oh-_

"POOPSIKINS!"

I'm interrupted from my world by the shrill voice of my mom downstairs. God fucking dammit. I pull my headphones off.

"Whaaaat, meeeeehmmm?" I scream back.

Suddenly my mother comes up to my door. "I made you powdered donut pancake surprise!" She replies sweetly.

I get up and open the door, grabbing the plate from her. "Sweet, thanks mahhm!"

"You're welcome sweety," she says, shutting the door and returning downstairs.

I put the plate aside, sit back down and put my headphones back on. The dance and song is coming to an end, and the crowd starts to cheer and compliment our performance. My tip jar gets some money added to it. The audience loved the performance, but Freya doesn't have anything to say.

Cherry walks off the stage. I throw my headphones off and begin to hungrily chomp on my plate of pancakes and powdered donuts.

I finish the whole snack in 5 minutes, and then look back at the screen. Freya still has nothing to say about the special performance I put on for her. I guess it worked. I played a song about masturbating just to creep him out. I send him an IM.

CherryBombAngel: Nothing to say about my performance?? It was just 4 u, babe

I get no response.

CherryBombAngel: u never appreciate the things I do for u

FreyaCutiePie: You're right. Maybe we should break up.

Seriously?? This bitch wants to leave me, after all I've done for her?? I'm the one who paid for the mansion we live in. She'd be back on the street sucking dicks and selling knock off purses without me.

CherryBombAngel: Why?? Can we still be friends w/ benefits? I bought some more dildos for us to try

FreyaCutiePie: Go shove the dildos up your ass

CherryBombAngel: woah, kinky are we? maybe u can help me ;)

FreyaCutiePie: Can you stop typing like a horny old man on the internet?

CherryBombAngel: excuse me! I'm not a man, I'm a sexy lady.

FreyaCutiePie: Oh, right.

CherryBombAngel: I can't believe u wanna leave me. Is there someone else?

FreyaCutiePie: yeah. It's Rico.

CherryBombAngel: OMG. Cheating skank!!

FreyaCutiePie: I know, I'm such a skank

CherryBombAngel: So ur just gonna leave me for some dick?

FreyaCutiePie: yep

CherryBombAngel: pls don't

FreyaCutiePie: Sorry honey

CherryBombAngel: ..but what if I give u 200 virtual dollars?

FreyaCutiePie: Alright, I'll stay

CherryBombAngel: OMG, u Jewish whore

FreyaCutiePie: Fuck you and gimme my money

CherryBombAngel: Only if u suck my balls.

FreyaCutiePie: You don't have balls, you're a chick, remember?

CherryBombAngel: Then suck my vagina

FreyaCutiePie: no

CherryBombAngel: frigid bitch

An hour later, we've stopped fighting, and Freya has finally taken me back. This is, however, after she kicked me and chased me with a virtual baseball bat. Then she knocked me down our mansion's grand virtual staircase. I feel like this is a very abusive relationship. If Kyle and I were an actual lesbian couple, I think he'd definitely be the one with the dick. 

* * *

Today, Cherry is pregnant. My avatar has a baby bump now.

I wait for Freya to log on to break the exciting news to her. When she comes online, I have pink and blue balloons scattered all over our house. I'm laying on our couch in my bikini, showing off my baby belly.

FreyaCutiePie: Wtf?

CherryBombAngel: Surprise! I'm pregnant!

FreyaCutiePie: ..How did this happen?

CherryBombAngel: I dunno, but were having a baby now

FreyaCutiePie: You weren't very pregnant yesterday

CherryBombAngel: shit happens

FreyaCutiePie: I didn't ask for this.

CherryBombAngel: Well too bad! we're going to be mommies now

FreyaCutiePie: I'm taking you to the abortion clinic

CherryBombAngel: no! I'm keeping the baby. My body my right.

FreyaCutiePie: I'm not paying for someone elses baby, you skank

CherryBombAngel: shut up and make me dinner. I'm having cupcake cravings

FreyaCutiePie: You always have cupcake cravings, you fat skank

CherryBombAngel: Fuck you bitch! That's no way to treat a pregnant lady. Omg, I think I'm in labor. Oh no, here it comes!

A virtual baby with a chocolate skin tone magically appears on the floor.

FreyaCutiePie: Ok, why is our baby black?

CherryBombAngel: Why not? Why can't our baby be black? Are you a racist??

FreyaCutiePie: Because that ain't my baby.

CherryBombAngel: Well it's ur fault! We never spend any quality time in our sex dungeon, so I had to fulfill my needs elsewhere. Not like two vaginas can make a baby anyway

FreyaCutiePie: So you fucked a black dude behind my back

CherryBombAngel: Regardless of who the daddy, it's still *our* child

The baby suddenly disappears. Kyle deleted it.

CherryBombAngel: WHY DID YOU DELETE OUR BABY, YOU RACIST!

FreyaCutiePie: Oh yeah, you're certainly one to talk about racists.

CherryBombAngel: I can't believe this. I want a divorce.

FreyaCutiePie: We were never married, bitch.

CherryBombAngel: well we need to go have a wedding so that I can divorce you afterwards

FreyaCutiePie: Maybe next time. I gotta go do my homework

CherryBombAngel: Lame. What a nerd

FreyaCutiePie: After playing this game every day, doing homework seems like the least nerdiest thing to do now.

CherryBombAngel: Whatever, go do your stupid homework Jew

FreyaCutiePie: Bye, bitch bomb

Kyle logs off, and so do I.

I get up and go to the bathroom, looking at my chubby face in the mirror. I grab a tube of red lipstick from the vanity drawer and twist open the top. Then I purse my lips and apply it. 

I spend the next hour playing around with makeup in the bathroom. I try to copy the look that my avatar has. By the time I'm done playing around, I put a blonde wig on and examine my new look in the mirror. Hmm, not too bad..


	4. Hanging out in meatspace

_(Cartman's POV)_

The next day at school, I make an effort to refer to Kyle as "Freya" as much as possible, just to annoy him. It definitely works. He starts calling me "Cherry Bitchbomb" in rebellion. Eventually Stan hears us and asks why he's calling me that.

I tell him it's just an inside joke. Stan raises an eyebrow, but doesn't ask any more before walking away. When he's gone, I grab Kyle and pull him into a nearby empty bathroom. He pulls his arm out of my grip and looks at me angrily. "What do you want, fatass?"

"Come to my house after school today," I demand.

"Why?" he asks, eyeing me wearily.

I sigh. I can't believe Kyle still doesn't trust me. I haven't tried to kill him in like, 2 whole years.

"I got some weed," I grin.

"Nah. Go ask Kenny instead," he promptly replies, getting ready to leave.

"I bought it off Kinny. I'm not letting him smoke what I paid him for."

"Then smoke it by yourself."

"But that's boring! Why are you being such a prudey pissy pants?" I frown.

"I'm not a prude, I just don't trust you." He looks at me sternly.

"Come on Kahl, I thought we were buddies. I'm not gonna try to kill you again, and besides, I probably wouldn't be able to properly execute a murder if I'm high."

"Did you invite Stan too?" Kyle asks.

"Yep, he said he's busy," I lie.

"Ugh, alright, whatever.." Kyle hesitantly agrees. "But if you try to pull any shit on me, I swear.."

"Relax your vagina, I'm not gonna hurt you," I roll my eyes.

"Ehhem," I hear someone say. Kenny just came into the bathroom. We move out of the way. "Hey dudes..are you guys skipping too?"

"Nah, I gotta get to class." Kyle quickly pulls his backpack up and darts out of the bathroom. God forbid he misses a class.

Kenny looks at me curiously. "What is going on with you two? Neither of you guys wanna hang out anymore, it's been just me and Stan. He's upset that you've stolen his butt buddy."

"None of yer business Kinny." Just then, the bell rings. I sigh and lean against the wall. I don't feel like going to class late now and getting written up. I'd rather pretend I went to the nurse.

"Are you guys involved in some illegal scheme that you can't tell me about? I promise not to tell," he probes.

"No Kinny, we're not up to anything!" I yell.

He just looks at me like he doesn't believe me. "Uhuh..wait, it's that game isn't it? Are y'all still hooked on that dumb game??"

"Maybe." I try to hold back my grin but fail.

"Jesus. You guys need help. I haven't even seen either of you come outside at all these past weeks. Next you're gonna be coming to school wearing fedoras," Kenny teases.

I flip Kenny off. "Ey, fuck you Kinny!"

"Fuck you too. I don't get what's so great about that dumb game. The graphics suck."

"That's because your shitty PC from the prehistoric era won't allow you to fully appreciate the graphics," I snarkily inform him.

"You know, the graphics are even better in the real world," Kenny chuckles. He sits down on the nasty bathroom floor and pulls out a soda from his backpack.

"Psh, whatever. In the real world, you can't be a hot chick," I argue.

Kenny starts laughing and spits his soda out. "So you play a chick on there?"

"Yeah, Kyle and me are sexy stripper ladies. We own a nightclub now."

"Really? That's what you guys have been doing online?" Kenny finds this hysterical. Douchebag.

"Yeah. Our characters tits actually bounce around when they dance. It's pretty sweet."

Kenny just laughs even harder. "Bouncing titties eh? How big are they?"

"Uhh, like..this big." I hold my arm out in front of my chest, as if cupping an invisible pair of breasts.

"Sounds..titillating," Kenny continues laughing.

"Yeap," I grin.

"So..aside from staring at cartoon tits for hours, what do you actually do on there?"

I pause. What _do_ we actually do on there? I don't wanna tell him that I spend most of my time trying to screw Kyle's avatar. Instead I just shrug. "I dunno man, like, virtual stuff."

He just gives me a strange look and continues gulping down his soda.

"Ya'll are dorks," he snickers. I kick him in the leg. "Hey! Relax, fatass. You do need to go outside sometimes."

"Pssh, screw you Kinny," I huff, no good retorts coming to mind. He actually has a point there. I've spent all of my weekends online for the past month or more. Well, Kyle is coming over today, so maybe we'll do something else for a change.

"Anyway, I'm gonna head out." Kenny pulls a little baggie of weed out of his backpack, grinning. "Got business to do behind the school."

I just shake my head. Kenny is an idiot for bringing weed to school. He shoves the tiny bag back into his backpack and takes off.

* * *

I make my best effort not to harass Kyle too much for the rest of the day, because I still want him to come over to my house later.

When school lets out, Kyle actually meets me outside and we walk back to my house together. I'm quite surprised he didn't ditch me.

"Isn't it nice to be out in the sunlight for a change, day walker?" I grin, inhaling the crisp outdoorsy air.

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I guess so. That game was starting to get kind of boring, anyways."

I stare at him and examine the sunlight glowing off his hair. He notices me staring, and gives me a weird look. "What??"

"Your hair. The sun is making it look like a fireball and it's gross. I'm going to catch cancer from all the ginger radiation," I cough.

"Good, I hope my hair gives you cancer, retard," he glares at me. I shoot him a charming grin in return. We continue walking in relative silence. I continue staring at him like a predator, just to annoy him more. I can tell that he senses my gaze because he looks slightly pissed off.

As I continue staring, I cannot figure out for the life of me why chicks think he is attractive. Kyle looks like a stupid ginger fag. They obviously have shitty taste.

Not that I really care what dumb bitches think. But as much as I hate the day walker, the cupid in me likes to look out for him. Personally, I thought that all of the girls who showed interest in him were total whores, so I've kind of helped keep them away from him. Cupid me also played a role, because cupid me didn't think any of these girls were right for him either. Now, I'm not saying that we had anything to do with the sudden mysterious disappearance of Whitney Higgins, who had a crush on him last year, and disappeared right before the dance they were supposed to go to. That was totally a coincidence.

She was encroaching on something that wasn't hers, so I suppose her disappearance was simply...conveniently sweet karma. Teehee.

"Dude..did you just..giggle?" Kyle is looking at me strangely now. Oops, did I just say  _teehee_  out loud?

"Uh, yeah, I was just remembering this totally silly thing. It's nothing, just something stupid," I smile innocently.

He looks at me like I'm insane, but doesn't press any further.

I already know that Kyle thinks I'm crazy. It's a surprise that he even agreed to come over to my house, since he hasn't come over by himself in two years. I think kidnapping him and keeping him hostage in my basement was the last straw.

I mean, yeah, I've done some shit to him, but I made up for everything by showing up at his house in a nice sweater, and giving him a fruit basket. I even went above and beyond by offering to take him to Applebee's. He declined my offer and threw the fruit basket at me, then slammed the door shut in my face. So then, I showed up and watered his parents flower beds every morning for a week. If that doesn't make up for holding someone in your basement for 8 days, I don't know what does. His parents called the cops and put a restraining order on me when they saw me in their flower beds at 5 AM, but, it's the thought that counts.

So yeah, there's really no reason why he shouldn't forgive me by now.

When we finally get to my house, I unlock the door and hold it open for him to enter first. He raises an eyebrow at me. "Ladies first," I grin.

He punches me in the arm, but enters regardless. I shut the door behind us, and we put our coats and backpacks in the foyer.

"So, Kahl.." I say politely, folding my hands and smiling sweetly at him. He gives me a knowing look.

"Umm, have a seat." I pat the couch. He sits down reluctantly, looking around suspiciously.

Having Kyle at my house is like bringing in a wary stray cat. You have to be very careful that you don't frighten it, or it might try to run out the door. Sometimes, it's best to just put it in a cage for awhile until it calms down. But unfortunately, I don't have a cage big enough to hold Kyle in. And I really don't want to get arrested again either. So I'm just gonna have to act nice. Ugh.

"So Kahl, the weather today is nice isn't it? Do you want anything to drink? Perhaps a snack?" I ask, again trying to sound sweet.

He continues giving me that knowing look. "Cut it out, Cartman. Why are you pretending to be nice?"

I sigh. I see he's caught on to my methods. "Why can't I try to be nice for once?"

"Because you aren't nice. You just pretend to be to get something out of people. So what is it you're trying to get out of me this time?" he growls.

Damn. Kyle really knows me well. "Maybe I just want your company, is that so evil?" I huff, sitting down on the couch too.

His face softens a bit, and he looks mildly guilty. Just the reaction I intended for. "Sorry dude. It's just...you're insane, you know that right? Last time I was here, you trapped me in your basement for a whole week. I thought you were gonna kill me."

I groan. He's never gonna let this go, is he? "Oh for fucks sake, Kahl. That was like, two years ago, and I was going through some issues at that time, okay? I said I was sorry. I even gave you a fruit basket, Jesus.."

Kyle rolls his eyes. "You're lucky that I'm so accepting of your "issues". Most people would have cut you out of their life after all the crazy stunts you've pulled."

"Jesus tap dancing Christ, you sound like a nagging wife." I get up from the couch and stretch my arms out. "So are we smoking or not? I have the stash upstairs in my room."

Kyle shakes his head. "I'll pass."

Ugh. He probably thinks I laced it with something. "Alright, whatever..so what do you wanna do then? Play video games?"

"That's all we ever do," Kyle sighs.

"Well, we can't screw our brains up any more than we already have. Besides, I can't think of anything better to do."

"Fine, let's go."

So we go upstairs to my room and play a street racing game. I lose the first round and start rolling up a joint.

"Hey, no driving while under the influence!" Kyle warns sarcastically.

"Psh, whatever. I do what I want." I light it up and inhale the blunt and start coughing.

Kyle watches me disapprovingly. I hand it out to him in offering, and he reluctantly takes a few hits.

A half hour later, I feel very relaxed. I've forgotten to get pissed off about continuously losing the game. Kyle seems a little bit less uptight as well. Neither of us are very good at this game while high though, especially me, I keep crashing my car into things.

After a fit of laughter and multiple car wrecks, we finally give up playing. I take a deep yawn.

Kyle catches my yawn as well and looks at me, a bit spaced out. "Alright, what do you want to do now?"

"I dunno man." I yawn. "I'm sleepy as fuck."

Kyle nods. "Me too. Let's just call it a night then."

"Kay. See ya tomorrow then?"

"Yep. Later." I simply wave half heartedly as he walks out of my room and down the steps. I hear the front door close and I go down to lock it. I look out the window and watch the ginger walking down the street looking a wee bit out of balance. Hopefully his bitchy mother won't notice.

I go back upstairs and flop down on my bed. I still don't know where my mom is, but this is normal. Suddenly, cupid me appears at the foot of my bed.

"Teehee! Looks like Kyle is finally starting to trust you again!" he giggles, flying around my head.

"Yeah cupid me, so don't try to screw things up again," I glare at the little dipshit.

"Oh, but don't you want to have some fun??" he giggles.

"No cupid me, don't you even dare. We're  _not_  tying him up in the basement again!" I yell. "I'm trying to be good now, okay??"

"But being good is boring! Teehee!"

I groan, rolling out of bed and heading to my closet. I take out a baseball bat and smack him with it. He falls limply to the floor, a little bit of blood oozing out of his mouth. Thank god, now I can get some sleep.


	5. Mom Problems

_(Cartman's POV)_

Well it's Friday night, and school is over for the week. Thank fucking god. I'm on the game again, munching some potato chips as I watch my avatar gyrate around on the dancefloor. It's western themed night at our club, so Cherry is dressed up like a sexy cow girl, wearing cow printed boots and booty shorts.

Kyle came online for 20 minutes before suddenly disappearing and going offline. It's been an hour and I haven't seen him come back online yet, which is unusual, especially for a Friday night.

As I watch the trashy characters in the club doing a line dance, I am interrupted by the doorbell. Ugh. It's probably my mom, either drunk or high or missing her house keys again.

I run down the steps in my pajamas and open the door. I'm surprised to see not my mother, but instead Kyle standing there. He looks stressed, and he's got his book bag strapped to his back.

He looks at me and sighs. "Cartman, I know this is weird, but I kind of got into a fight with my mom and had to leave the house."

"I was wondering why you logged off suddenly. Soo, why didn't you go to Stan's house?" I raise an eyebrow.

"He's out somewhere with Wendy right now," he groans.

"Well, come in..just don't be too much of a Jew and I'll try not to kill you, kay?" I grin.

He furrows his eyebrows and smacks me with his back pack before walking inside. And it's not a light smack, dammit. What a way to treat your host. I think Kyle gets his bitchiness from his mother.

Since I know he is probably on his weekly period, I give him a pass for assaulting me.

"So..don't tell me..your mom saw you playing the game and got mad?" I guess.

He puts his head down solemnly. "She ripped my computer off my desk and took it away."

I gasp. "Holy shit. Your mom really is a bitch."

He glares at me, ready to defend his mom, and I hold my hands out. "Hey now, she took away your most precious belonging over some silly videogame. Just admit it."

His defensive expression droops, and instead he just looks defeated. He plops down on the couch, cupping his temples. "She somehow smelled the weed on me last night too, when I came home. She told me tonight when we got into a big argument. I thought she was gonna hit me or something. Then I just shoved some crap in my bag and walked out."

I'm impressed by his bravery. Usually he's a pussy and always obeys his mummy dearest. "Wow Kahl, sounds like you finally grew some balls," I chuckle.

He throws me the middle finger, but is still looking down at the carpet. I decide to sit down as well. "Soo..does this mean we're having a sleepover party?" I ask in a girly high pitched falsetto.

I know he's trying very hard to maintain his moody disposition and parental angst, but I see him crack a small grin at my voice. He finally lifts his head and laughs a little. "Dude..I mean, I guess, if you don't mind me staying here. I'm kinda afraid to go back to my house tonight."

"It's fine, Kahl. I mean, we're buddies now, right?" I grin.

He smiles slightly at me. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So what do you want to do?" I ask, stretching my arms out.

"Um, I don't really care. Were you busy playing the game? I'll just sit down here and study, or something."

He pulls his backpack up into his lap and is ready to unzip it when I stop him. "Aw come on, don't be a dork. Let's do something more fun."

"Like what?" he asks.

"I dunno. We've got cookie dough in the fridge. Wanna make chocolate chip cookies?" I offer.

He looks at me suspiciously, before shrugging. "Alright, I guess. By the way, where is your mom?" Kyle stands up with his bag, looking around the quiet house.

I shrug. "Probably out with one of her boyfriends."

Kyle gives me a somewhat sympathetic look, and for some reason it irks me. "I'll go get the cookie dough out. Do you have pajamas you want to change into?"

"Yeah, I'll be right back." He walks upstairs with his backpack to go change in the bathroom.

I walk into the kitchen and get a can of premade cookie dough out, along with a bowl and cookie sheet. I'm surprised even myself by how civil I've been to Kyle so far. Could it be that..being nice isn't so hard after all?

Just then, Cupid Me appears. God dammit, I thought I finally killed the bastard. He never dies.

"Hey Eric! Why don't we go sneak in on Kyle while he's in the bathroom, and tickle him until he can't breathe? Teehee!"

"What the hell is wrong with you, cupid me? That sounds fucking weird and gay." I swipe at the little shit.

"But I  _am_  gay Eric! And I'm a part of you, teeheehee!"

"I am NOT a homosexual, cupid me, so leave me alone!" I growl, trying to hit him with the rolling pin.

"Teeheeheee"- SPLAT. Got him. I sigh and turn around to see Kyle standing there in his pajamas. Damn, that was fast. He's looking at me and the rolling pin with a strange expression. Shit, how much of that conversation did he hear?

I give a nervous half grin as he walks in. "Oh, hey Kahl."

"Were you trying to kill a fly with that rolling pin?" he asks.

Whew. So he thinks I was just swatting a fly. "Heh, I guess so. Damn things are annoying as hell."

"That's kinda gross dude, I don't want fly guts in my cookies." Kyle scrunches his nose.

"Relax, asshole, I didn't even get the fly."

He glares at me but looks too distressed to bother arguing. I guess his bitchy mom really screamed at him. Boo hoo. My mom doesn't even care to be around most of the time. I start mixing the cookie dough in the bowl, adding in the butter and eggs, and then I stir in the chocolate chips. Before we start rolling them into balls, I come up with a genius idea.

"Oh, wait! I know something extra these cookies could use. Hold on." Then I run upstairs and open my bedroom drawer to grab the secret ingredient, before running back the stairs (well, as fast as I can run.)

I wave the little baggie of greens at Kyle. He rolls his eyes. "Weed cookies!" I grin. Maybe this herbal remedy will help remove the stick from his ass.

"Ok, how much of that do you have stashed away? I hope you're not selling drugs now," Kyle sighs.

I glare at him. "NO." I lie. "I just buy it from Kenny every now and then. I had a little extra sitting in this bag. If you don't want any of my delicious cookies then that's fine."

"Fine, whatever." Kyle watches as I dump the baggie into the cookie bowl and stir it in. "How much of that are you supposed to put in?"

I just shrug. I've never made these before and don't have a recipe. Kenny usually sells me good stuff so it shouldn't matter. We spend the next 10 minutes forming cookie balls to put on the tray.

I push the tray in the oven and set the timer. "Alright, wanna go watch TV or something?"

Kyle shrugs. I take that as a yes. We watch some stupid prank show on TV that isn't even really funny, and after a few minutes I begin to smell the cookies baking, with a faint hint of a herbal smell.

Eventually the timer beeps, so I go and open the oven. I get a powerful whiff of the mildly burnt cookies. Kyle comes in and looks down in the oven. He coughs at the smell. "Jesus dude."

"The bottoms are a little burnt, but they're fine. We can still eat em," I assure, pulling the tray out. I fan the smoke in the air, coughing a bit.

I dump the cookies into a bowl and throw the tray in the sink. They're a little hot still, so some of them break when I put them in the bowl. I grab one and stuff it into my mouth. Then I eat another one. Kyle is just watching me with a smirk. What does he find so funny?

"Dude, slow down. Don't eat too many space cookies or you might leave Earth," he laughs.

"Psh, it's just a little herbal flavoring. Besides, I didn't have any dinner." I munch on my cookie and take the bowl back to the living room.

Kyle reluctantly grabs one from the bowl and sniffs it. He pulls back, staring at the cookie like it might be poisoned.

"Just eat it, you pussy, it's not gonna kill you," I roll my eyes. "I wouldn't be eating them myself if they were laced with something."

He takes a bite of the cookie, looks at me suspiciously and then nibbles on the rest. Meanwhile I'm already on my third cookie.

20 minutes later and most of the cookies are gone. I start feeling the effects kicking in. The previously unfunny and lame prank show has somehow become hilarious. Kyle finds it hysterical when the guy jumps out of the trashcan to scare a passerby.

Then a commercial for an emergency dial button for seniors comes on, and it's like the funniest thing we've ever seen in our life. Kyle actually falls off the couch laughing.

"Oh no. Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!" he yells. "I need lifeline alert!"

I kick him in the back, laughing. "Just die already, grandpa."

He punches me in the leg in retaliation. "Ow, fuck Kahl!" Why does he have to punch so hard? That's probably gonna leave a bruise.

He just starts giggling ridiculously. Apparently he finds physically assaulting me funny. I get up from the couch, rubbing my leg. Then I grab his arm and try to drag him up off the floor. But he just rolls over and keeps laughing.

"Fine, stay there on the floor and keep being a retard. I'm going upstairs." I go to my room and realize I'd left my computer and game running. By this point, I've been automatically logged out of the game. I'm too high to remember my log in password, so I turn it off.

Kyle drags himself into my room like he's made of lead, and drops onto my bed, laying his head down on my pillow. Damn, he must be a lightweight because he looks spaced out as fuck.

I glare at him. "Who said you can sleep on my bed, ginger??"

He lifts his head up and mumbles something incomprehensible. I guess this is my fault for getting him wasted. "Hey, Kahl" I snap my fingers at him. "Kahl!" I yell again. He murmurs something, but has already begun falling asleep. I shake my head and go to the bathroom to take a piss.

"Eric!" a voice calls while I'm taking a leak. I try to ignore it. "Eric!" it yells again.

"Go away, asshole!" I yell at it.

"You know what I'm thinking?" the little cherub coos, flying around the toilet bowl.

"NO. Fuck off, I'm not doing that." I reply.

"Teehee, but it would be so much fun..and he probably won't even remember it!" Cupid Me giggles.

I try to ignore him, but he flies up and plants a magical kiss on my cheek. "Arghh..no, cupid me! You little scoundrel!"

Cupid me giggles. I start giggling too. That little chubby cheek devil. "Alright, maybe we can have a little bit of fun.." I smile widely, looking into the mirror.

I open the bathroom drawer and pull out a bag full of makeup. My secret stash.

By the time I'm done in the bathroom, I return to see Kyle still sleeping in my bed.

"Teehee..he looks so cute when he's sleeping!" the cherub coos. "He'll be even cuter when we're done with his makeover."

"Pssh, shut up, cupid me." I try to hit him as he flies around my head. I feel dizzy. Ignoring my hindered state, I put the makeup bag down on my office chair and look through it. Hmm..

"I think we should go with pink for the lipstick, and purple for the eye shadow." I grab the pink lipstick tube and the eyeshadow palette and hover quietly over Kyle. Even if he's asleep, I can't safely attempt this without restraining him first.

"Go get the fuzzy handcuffs! Teeheehee!" Cupid me giggles.

"Good idea, you silly little devil!" I smile, poking him in the belly. I run into my mom's bedroom and look through her closet for the pink furry handcuffs. I find them hiding in the corner of the top shelf.

I return to my room and quietly approach Kyle. I gotta be careful doing this, but he looks pretty wasted, so maybe he won't even know. I slowly raise both of his arms over his head and carefully click one handcuff over his wrist, ensuring that the chain goes around the bed post before cuffing his other wrist. I snap it with a click and suddenly notice his eyes are half open, looking right at me.

Shit. I jump back, even though he's restrained. But instead of becoming aware, his head falls sideways and he closes his eyes again. I stand still, staring at him. I think he's asleep. That was close. He's sleeping with his mouth slightly open. Cupid me flies over to him and pees in his mouth a little bit.

"Cupid me! You're such a bad little cupid!" I grin.

He flies around to me and puts his hands under his chin innocently. "Teeheehee!"

Cupid grabs the tube of lipstick and hands it to me. I look devilishly at Kyle's sleeping face. His lips are slightly parted, making it easier to apply the glossy pink lipstick. I pop the cap open and roll it over his bottom lip. Then I do his upper lip.

"Oh, how pretty!" Cupid me hands me the sparkling eye shadow next. I take the stick and dab it in the purple, then rub it over his closed eyelids. Then I take a poof and apply pink blush to his cheeks. He stirs slightly, so I wait to make sure he is still asleep. I decide to finish off with a jar of some body glitter goo that I found in a drug store. I dip my finger in it and rub some around his eyes and cheeks, giving his face a sparkly look.

I take a step back to examine my work. Not too bad. Could be better, but it's hard to do makeup on an unwilling victim while they sleep. I dip my finger in the glitter makeup again, gulping as I stare at his pink lips. Slowly, I run my finger over his lips, applying the glitter. I can't believe he hasn't woken up yet.

"Teehee..he looks fabulous now!" Cupid me claps at my work.

I rub the remaining glitter on my finger over my own red lips, smiling.


	6. Not Again!

_(Kyle's POV)_

I feel groggy and spaced out. My wrists are sore, and something furry is tickling them. I try to move my arms to itch them, only to realize that they're stuck.

I open my heavy eyes and look around. Aside from a faint glow, the room is dark. I'm in..Cartman's bedroom, and I can't fully remember how I got here.

 _"What the fuck"_  are probably the only words to describe my internal reaction once I fully process what's going on. I'm in his bed and I'm handcuffed. There's something on my head, and sticky shit on my face. Cartman is sitting at his computer..wearing a wig..actually, wearing an entire drag outfit. It's when hair falls in front of my face that I realize I've got a wig on my head as well. I try to get my hands free, to no avail. He turns his head once he hears the handcuffs clacking around on the bar.

And then he gives me the most psychotic grin I've seen in awhile. Please tell me this is just a nightmare.

Flashbacks suddenly enter my mind.

It's one week before the school dance. I was supposed to be going with this girl named Whitney. Cartman invited me over to his house that weekend, and I remember drinking a soda he gave me. I also remember feeling suddenly very tired. At some point, he lead me down into his basement to "see something awesome". By that point, I felt so heavy and couldn't remember the next thing that happened, only waking up tied to a pipe in his basement, with some dirty rag restraining my wrists.

He told me that he didn't want to kidnap me, but he couldn't let me go "for my own good".

8 days of hell, watching my insane captor argue with an invisible fairy about whether he should let me go or not, and being fed mashed potatoes with a spoon. I tried to bite through the rags to free myself, but he noticed my efforts and tied my arms with even more rags. His mother never came down to notice a human being held captive in her basement, and I still wonder to this day if she was a co-conspirator. When the police finally found me, Cartman was sent to a juvenile detention center for a year and a half.

And not that it was important after such a terrible ordeal, but I didn't go to that dance. I also never saw that Whitney girl again. Apparently her family just suddenly decided to pack up and move out of South Park, for unknown reasons. She never even said goodbye.

Although I was thankful he didn't actually hurt me, aside from my arms and wrists being bruised and incredibly sore, I never fully trusted Cartman again after that. I was shocked that he tried to apologize, telling me that he was just going through some "issues" at the time. Oh hell no, I didn't buy his lame excuse. You don't just hold someone hostage in your basement due to "personal issues". Cartman is a never ending bout of issues.

Which probably explains why I am once again tied to a pole in his house, watching him talk to his invisible friend while giggling.

He looks back at me and goes to turn the bedroom ceiling light on. Along with his long blonde wig, he's wearing a black tube top that squeezes his fat man boobs and belly rolls, some frilly black skirt, fishnet stockings and black heels. His face is caked in makeup as well. He looks like a clown prostitute from hell.

"Oh, hey Freya." He grabs a hand mirror and holds it up to my face. I reluctantly peer into it. I've got makeup smeared all over my face, and a brunette womens wig placed half assed on my head. He moves to adjust my wig. Then he throws the mirror on his bedside table and clasps his hands, grinning excitedly at me.

I don't even know what to say. Words just kind of fall out of my mouth. "Cartman, what the fuck are you doing??"

His red lips frown. "Who's Cartman? My name is Cherry, have you forgotten, silly?" he speaks in an exaggerated feminine voice, giggling.

I sigh. "If this is some kind of joke, it's not funny."

He grins more. "It is funny, hilarious actually." He paces around near the bed, laughing like a mad man. "But no, I didn't intend for this to be a joke."

All I can think is  _why_?  _Why_  did I think it was a good idea to visit him? I really should have never agreed to stay at Cartman's house by myself. Damn, do I feel like a dumb ass right now.

I shake my wrists violently. I don't know if I'm more angry at Cartman or myself. "Aghhh!"

Cartman just smirks at me. Indeed, he looks like a devious clown, with that sneaky smile and his red lips. "Don't try to struggle babe..I only wanted to have some fun!"

I glare at him. Did he just call me babe? "This isn't fun. Untie me, right now."

He continues smirking as he walks over to me. I try not to show it, but I feel like I might piss my pants. He leans over and examines the handcuffs. "Oh, dear..I don't know what I've done with the keys! I guess you'll just have to stay there until a professional locksmith arrives. Sorry, bitch."

I scream and kick my legs, kicking him in the stomach. It's not a very good kick, but I at least hit my target.

He stumbles backwards with an "oof". Then he steadies himself in his clumsy hooker shoes. "Aww, why you gotta be like that? I thought we were lovers" he winks, smirking again.

I shudder. As scared as I am right now, I'm also pretty enraged. "Cartman, you're fucking delusional. Let me go right now. Do you want to get arrested again?"

His smirk drops. "Well Kahl, I already tied you to a bedpost when I was high, which was probably a stupid mistake, but I know that even if I do let you go now, you'll go and tell someone. You'll tell Stan, he'll tell others, and I'll get in trouble. Either way, I'm screwed. So I might as well enjoy this while it lasts."

Okay, I'm fucking terrified now by what he means by that. I try to keep my cool and negotiate with him. "Just let me go, and I won't tell anyone about this. I promise."

He shakes his head. "Ha, like I would ever trust a Jew's promise. Why should I believe you?"

I glare at him, trying to think of something. "Because..because.." I stutter, unsure of what to say.

"See, exactly." He grabs the chain connecting the handcuffs and pulls on it, as if inspecting it. My hand hits the metal bedpost, right on the bone, and it hurts. I hiss a little bit.

"Sorry babe" he says in his feminine voice again. "Shall I kiss your boo boo to make it better?"

Shocked and admittedly frightened, I examine his face. He looks like he is enjoying this. Fucking sadist. "Stop it!" I warn gravely, even though I know it's ultimately useless.

"Stop what, babe?" he giggles. He fucking _giggles_ , like he's a woman. It's creeping me out, but perhaps that's his intention.

"Stop calling me "babe", for starters."

"But I thought we were girlfriends..hee hee!" he giggles more, touching the hair on my wig.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask. I already know that he's doing this all to scare me. At least, I think so. It could also simply be that he's fucking nuts.

He continues smiling and twirls the wig hair around his finger. "Do you really want to know why?"

"Yes." I respond plainly.

He moves closer to me. I gulp. He's right up in my face and I can't move away. With one hand leaning on the bed, he uses his other hand to grab my chin and pull my head up. He squeezes my face, squishing my lips like a fish. He leans even closer, his breath on my lips.

I look him terrifyingly in the eye. He holds a scary smile at me for a few seconds, and I sink my head backwards into the pillow to get as far away from his impending face as I can, but he just keeps leaning in closer, slowly, as if to torture me. My chest is racing, he releases the squeeze on my face and tries to push his lips against mine. I panic and aggressively shove him in the crotch with my knee.

"Oww, god dammit!" He quickly retreats from me, clutching his nether region and frowning. I hear him wheeze a little bit. "You're not making this very easy" he huffs.

My eyes widen incredulously.  _I'm_  not making this easy? He's the one holding me captive like some fucking Buffalo Bill shit. "What do you expect me to do? Tell you how thrilled I am to be chained up by a fucking lunatic?"

"Yes." He nods, folding his arms. "Tell me that you love it."

"Dream on, psycho" I mutter.

He furrows his eyebrows. "Do you want me to play nicely? Then say it, bitch."

I realize with desolation that there's no getting out of this. "Oh, this is so thrilling" I utter lamely, sarcastically.

He looks a bit displeased with my sarcasm, but leans in and starts petting the wig on my head, running his fingers through it, that devil smile on his face. "Good girl."

I lay there, stiff as a board, as he continues creepily stroking the wig. In horror and hopelessness, I begin to think..this must be one of my biggest "fuck my life" moments to date. Why me?


	7. Demented Tea Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who was following this: deeply sorry for the wait. I really have no idea where I'm going with this lmao.

_(Kyle's POV)_

It's probably about 6 AM, from what I can tell of the dark sky and sun just barely beginning to rise outside the window. What a lovely Saturday morning to be still kept captive in a psycho's bedroom.

Cartman..or "Cherry" as he now keeps calling himself, left the room after telling me that he was going to get a "surprise". While he's gone, I try desperately to pull my hands out of the cuffs, but it's useless. If the bedpost bars weren't so narrow, maybe I'd be able to slip through them. I don't see any way of getting out of them.

Frustrated, I sit up against the bed post, trying to position my arms in a new way that doesn't strain them. God damn, my wrists feel sore. I don't know how much longer of this I can take.

I hear someone humming and coming up the stairs. Sounds like the evil bastard. He walks in with a tray....a tea tray...and puts it down on his dresser. He then looks in my direction and grins at me. I scowl back at him.

Ignoring my death stare, he opens his dresser drawer, pulling out a stuffed doll..and his stuffed plush frog. Then he walks over and puts them on the bed near me, arranging them so they appear to be sitting up. Can this possibly get any weirder?

"What are we doing, Cherry?" he speaks in a heavy fake voice, moving the frog's head like it's talking. Oh god.

"We're having a tea party!!" he then says excitedly in his girly voice, clapping his hands.

Then he goes to move the doll's head. "Oh, that sounds wonderful! I love tea parties!!" he screams in a high pitched voice.

He grins widely and turns to me. "What about you, bitch? Don't you like tea parties?"

I kick the doll off the bed with my legs, glaring at him. "Let. Me. Go." I demand.

He gasps. "Oh mah god! Polly prissy pants! Are you okay??" he runs to pick the doll up, cradling it.

"Yes!" he speaks in his high pitched doll's voice. "Fucking bitch kicked me!"

"Tsk tsk tsk. She's such a bad girl. We might have to punish her."

My eyes widen in fear. He starts laughing maniacally.

"Oh mah god," he chuckles, "The look on your face! That was priceless. I was just kidding, Kyal."

I try to kick him as well, but he's too far away. "You fucking nutcase! This isn't fucking funny, and my arms are really starting to hurt."

He almost looks remorseful, for a split second. Then he takes his doll and starts pecking my arm with it, making kissy noises. "Polly prissy pants will kiss your boo boos away! Right, Polly?"

"Yes of course! Now let's have tea!" the doll "speaks".

Cartman sits the doll back on the bed, glaring at me, as if threatening me not to kick it again. He then claps his hands and moves towards his dresser. He grabs the tea tray and puts it down on the nightstand near the bed. "Care for some tea, m'lady?"

"I don't want any of your fucking tea, I want to get out of these things!" I shake my arms violently.

"I wasn't talking to you, asshole. I was talking to Polly," he informs, reaching over to move the doll's head again. He then places a tiny toy tea cup in front of the doll.

I can't believe that he still has these things at 17 years old. Dear god, if you even exist, please let this be a terrible dream that I wake up from any minute now.

I watch silently as he stands there with his hand on his hip, looking down at me with a crazy smile. "Now, Freya..we should teach you some lady like manners. If you ever want to get invited to the queen's castle for tea, you can't behave like a nasty peasant."

"It's true!" his doll agrees.

I stare at him blankly. "Who is the queen?"

He grins widely. "I am."

I roll my eyes. "Figures."

"Yeah well, if you are a good girl, I'll let you become a princess," he grins, grabbing a handful of the hair on my wig again.

I try to recoil from his creepy touch. "I'm a boy, dickhead. Would you cut it out with this weird role playing crap?!"

He frowns, tapping his chin. "See, disagreeing with me and calling me names isn't what I had in mind when I said "good girl". You're going to be nicer to your queen or else she'll have to punish you."

I look down at the carpeted floor, unsure what to do in this predicament. I know what Cartman is capable of, and unfortunately, that's a lot. I better just suck up my pride until somebody finds me or I figure out a way to escape.

I sigh, then nod solemnly, looking up into his eyes. "You're right, Queen Cherry. I've been a defiant bitch, but I'm ready to be a good girl now." I smile as sweetly as possible.

He looks taken aback by my sudden change in demeanor. Almost uncomfortable. Two can play this game. Raising an eyebrow, he asks "W-what?"

Continuing to smile as sickening sweetly as possible, I repeat myself. "I said, I'll be a good girl now."

He looks utterly confused for a second, but then composes himself. "Umm..okay. Yeah, you better be good or..else!" he warns, although his warning lacks threat. Seems like my sudden behavioral change has thrown him for a loop.

"I will," I grin widely, attempting to mask any signs of fear or anger.

He backs away, looking very confused, and turns towards his tea set. "Okay..uh..let's have tea then."

I just continue silently smiling at him. He gives me an odd look before glancing back at his tea set. The cups are very tiny and light blue with flowers on them. I wonder where the hell he got them from, it looks like something a little girl would own. In fact, I wonder if this is something he's secretly had since he was a kid. Or maybe he stole it from somewhere, I wouldn't put that past him.

I watch as he pours the tea from his teapot into two cups. I pray that it's not laced with something, but after I see him taking a sip of it, my nerves calm a little bit.

He puts his own cup down, picking up the other cup. He's almost ready to hand it to me before he realizes that my hands are still confined.

"Will you finally unhandcuff me, Queen Cherry?" I ask politely. "You know, so I can drink your delicious tea."

He shoots me a knowing grin. "Ha! I don't think so, bitch. You think I'm an idiot? No, I'll help you with that."

I sigh. It was worth a shot. He puts the teacup to my lips and I take a sip. I am pretty damn thirsty. I take a few more thirsty sips before he pulls the cup away.

"Now now, you were slurping and drinking like a horse. That is not how true ladies drink tea. You must learn to take dainty sips! Let's try again."

I roll my eyes as he brings the teacup back to my lips again. This time I try to take a "dainty sip", whatever the hell that means.

He looks pleased. "Better, but not perfect. It's going to take a lot of work to turn you into a classy lady."

I can't believe this crazy son of a bitch is educating me on being a "classy lady", while he's cross dressed like a prostitute. I think he's even wearing his mother's red lipstick. I try not to think too much about that.

As if reading my mind, he stares at my lips. "Tsk..looks like your lipstick got smudged off. We better fix that."

Aw, fuck. He turns away and starts rummaging through a makeup bag on his desk, eventually pulling out a tube of lipstick. I hope to god this isn't one of his mother's lipsticks, I don't want to get herpes.

He pops open the cap to reveal a pink tube of lipstick. It kinda looks new, but I'm no expert. I watch him blankly as he pushes the lipstick tube up, then grabs me by the chin. I take a deep breath and lift my head compliantly.

He seems to be enjoying my discomfort as he stares at me. I try not to snap and scream at him, despite what my instincts are telling me to do. I try to remain calm and look at the wall, avoiding his gaze. He giggles as he smudges the tube of lipstick over my mouth, then tries to wipe some off the edge of my lips with a tissue. I then feel him dabbing and rubbing some of the pink lipstick onto my cheeks as well. I probably look like a clown now.

"There we gooo..all pretty now.." he coos in his fake sweet voice. Then he goes to his bedroom mirror and reapplies his own red lipstick. While he's doing that, I see him staring at me through the mirror, like a predator.

Just keep calm until someone comes looking for me, I tell myself. Surely they'll be aware of my disappearance by later today, or tomorrow at least. Maybe I should try to have a conversation with him. Maybe I can try to get on his good side so I can reason with him?

"So uh..Cartman..I didn't know you were into, like..makeup and stuff.." I say, immediately regretting speaking. Attempting to have a regular conversation with him right now feels ridiculous, and only adds to my humiliation. I hate him right now more than ever.

He grins at me through the mirror. "There is a lot you didn't know about me, Kahl.."

Am I supposed to be frightened or shocked by that admission? At this point, nothing can surprise me.

"Ok? Like what?" I ask, trying to filter the anger out of my voice.

He pauses at his mirror, as if contemplating what he's going to say. "Are you sure you wanna know..my secret?"

"Yes," I reply dryly. Oh boy, this better be good.

"Well..sometimes..I like to dress up in ladies clothes and...pretend I'm someone famous," he says dramatically, as if revealing a dark and mysterious fact. "Like a pop star, or a queen."

Unable to contain myself, I burst out laughing. He glares at me. "That's supposed to be a secret?" I cackle. "Like I don't already know this??"

He growls at me. "Well, you know now, but you didn't know this before."

I continue laughing out loud. "I probably could have guessed it."

He shoots an angry glare at me. "No, you could not have."

"Yes, I could," I argue on queue, my laughter dying down as I remind myself that the situation I'm in really isn't funny.

"Oh yeah right Kyle, like you know what I do in my spare time!" he argues back, throwing his lipstick back in the bag.

"Pretending you're a chick online?" I roll my eyes. "And now..fucking this. I should have never trusted you. Is holding me hostage another one of your fucked up fetishes, you dirty bastard?!"

Cartman looks pissed at me through the mirror. Clearly I struck a nerve. "Jesus fuckin Christ! I'm just having a little fun toying with you. Don't get sand up your vag. Besides, I had no intentions of doing any of this before I got wasted last night. I was thinking of letting you go hours ago, but I knew you'd go cry to your parents and have me thrown in jail."

I grit my teeth. "I already said that I wouldn't get the police involved, dumbass. Just let me go."

He turns around, facing me with a sly smirk. "And I already said that I can't trust Jews, especially ginger ones."

I give him an angry stare. "So how long are you gonna keep this up? The longer you keep me here and put me through all this bullshit, the more trouble you WILL be in if I do tell the police about this. So I'm giving you a chance now. Let me go now and I won't tell a soul. If you don't, you WILL get in trouble, and then you'll be the one in handcuffs, asshole."

Cartman walks towards the bed and sits down on it. "Ooh, I'm shaking in my heels!" he snickers. "Alright, fine. You're not very fun anyway, and I'm getting bored with torturing you. I just sure as hell hope you keep your promise."

I take a big sigh of relief. Oh my god, THANK YOU MOSES!! Hopefully he's for real. My arms are sore as fuck and I have to take a piss. I plan to bolt out of here as soon as I get out of the cuffs. "I will keep the promise! Can you just please get these things off my wrists?!" I plead.

He rubs his chin, as if considering something. "I'll let you go, but I want something first."

Awww, fuck! Can anything be easy with him? The selfish bastard can never do anything without getting something out of it for himself. "What is it?" I ask suspiciously. I watch as he takes a little key out of his drawer.

He places the key down and sits next to me, looking down at the floor. "I want you to kiss me. And like, pretend you aren't utterly disgusted by me. Just for like 10 seconds. Then you can go home, forget about this fucked up night, and never talk to me again."

I swallow a dry lump in my throat. "Why? You haven't humiliated me enough already??"

He just shrugs. "Nothing to do with humiliation."

"For me it is, you sick bastard!" I yell. I almost want to cry, but I try to hold it together.

"Well.." he scratches his head, looking at the wall. "I know I'm a bastard, but it's something I've wanted for a long time."

"You actually have a crush on me?" I ask incredulously. He nods. "I don't believe it."

He looks up at me, grinning sadistically. "Why? We've already spent months together as couple."

I gape at him before finding the words to respond. "That..doesn't count! It's..it's just a game! It isn't real! It was a joke. Besides, if you really "liked" me, then you wouldn't do this to me, and -"

He silences me by putting a finger against my lips. I furrow my eyebrows. "Shhh.." he dangles the keys in front of me. "Are we going to do this or what?"

"Fine," I say sternly. "But you have to unlock one of my hands first, to prove you will really let me go."

He smiles and nods, getting the key and leaning over me to unlock my left hand. I feel it snap open and my arm drops limply. I let out another huge sigh, as I bend my wrist and stretch my arm and hand out in relief. I'm also able to sit up on the bed more easily. I hoist myself up, only to be met with Cartman's invasive figure. He's literally hovering right up against me.

"Ready?" he grins, leaning down into my face. His breath smells like stale cookies. This is fucked up, but it could be worse, I tell myself.

"Whatever," I reply, and before I know it, he's pushing his fat greedy lips onto mine.


	8. Escape

_(Cartman's POV)_

I lay in my bed, numbly munching on a bag of potato chips while I flick through TV channels.

What else is there to do after your crush, who you just released from hostage, frantically runs out of your house, taking off down the street at full speed like you're an axe wielding psychopath?

I didn't bother trying to stop him, I did agree to let him go after all. Now I'm expecting the police to show up at my door any moment now, cause I just know that pussy is going to rat me out. I'm dressed in my normal clothes again, ready to go just in case they bang down my door and drag me out. Kyle's lawyer daddy will probably defend him in court. Unless I can somehow con or charm my way out of it, I'll be charged with everything in the book, including sexual assault for forcing him to kiss me.

Oh god, that kiss sucked balls. I don't know why I even did it. Kyle was stiff as a board and didn't kiss me back at all, so it was just me slobbering on his face for five seconds. Afterwards, he looked completely disgusted. I never thought I would say this, but what I did was pretty pathetic.

I release a deep, troubled sigh. This is all Cupid Me's fault! He's really fucked me over again. Speaking of the devil, he casually flies in as I'm thinking about him.

"Teehee, Hi Eric!" the little winged asshole giggles at me. I take my pillow and try to swat him hard with it, but he gets away.

"Fuck you! Fuck you with a giant rusty dildo!" I scream, grabbing a fistful of my bed cover.

"Oh that sounds dirty! I wouldn't mind it though, teehee!" he hovers around my head.

"You fucking asshole! You did this! You ruined my chances with Kahl!" I yell, frustrated and confused.

The little Valentine bastard shrugs as it flies around my head. "Nuh uh! That was fun! And he knows how you really feel about him now, teehee!"

"What, that I wanted to tie him up to my bed post and torture him in a drag costume? I'm sure he _really_ loved that..you could really tell by the way he looked disgusted after kissing me! And then darted out of here like I was going to kill him!" I grumble. "You're the most useless cupid ever!"

The cupid puts one hand on his hip and wags his tiny finger at me. "Well Eric, maybe you two are just not compatible! Member when you said that people who are the same belong together? Well, you and Kahl are not very much the same!"

I roll my eyes, unable to argue with the little bastard's point. It's true, Kyle and I _are_ extremely different. See, he's a Jew, and I'm definitely not a Jew. Logically, this makes us completely incompatible. I shouldn't be attracted to a stupid Jew. Yet..I always feel this obsessive sense of possession over him, like nobody should be allowed to have him but _me._ He should be _my_ propertah.

Cupid Me gently pats me on the shoulder. "It's okay Eric, you just need to get over him. How about some chocolate ice cream and cookies? Hehee!"

"Fuck you, Cupid Me!" I reach under my bed for a fly swatter and smash him against the wall. Splat. "Although..some cookies does sound good right about now."

* * *

_(Kyle's POV)_

I bolt down the street, the cold wind hitting me in the face. I forgot my coat and hat, but that's of my least concern. I'm running so fast and paying such little attention to my surroundings that I don't notice another figure coming towards me. I accidentally collide into them, knocking both of us over on the icy sidewalk.

"Kyle!" he yells. I realize that it's Stan. I'm in no mood for Stan right now. He suffocates me in a hug. As I pull away, I notice him staring oddly at me.

"Your mom asked me if I knew where you were. Where have you been dude? I figured you were at Cartman's house, I was just going over there to check." He's still looking at me super weird.

I stand up, brushing the snow off me. "Y-yeah. I was at Cartman's," I reply in a shaky breath. I don't have time for this interrogation! It's cold, I'm tired, and I really, really need to pee.

"Dude..you have..some red stuff on your lips. Is that lipstick??" he points at my mouth. So that's why he's been staring oddly at me.

I scratch my nose nervously. "Uhh..no! It's uh, probably from a cherry popsicle I was eating." Smooth. I rub my mouth on my shirt to try and get it off.

"Uhuh." Stan just raises an eyebrow at me, as he continues to examine my face. It's obvious that he doesn't believe my excuse.

I stand there, my hands in my pockets, bouncing around on each foot as I try to hold my bladder. "Well, I have to pee!" I blurt out. "Can I use your bathroom real quick?? My mom is probably super mad at me, and I'd rather not face her when I'm already about to piss my pants."

Stan chuckles. "Sure, let's go."

* * *

So I'm using Stan's bathroom, and holy shit does it feel good to have finally peed. As I am washing my hands, I look in the mirror at my face and I'm horrified by what I see. Red-pinkish stains all over my mouth, on my cheeks, as well as glitter smeared around my eyes, on my face and my neck. No wonder Stan was looking at me like I'd grown a third eye on my head.

I desperately grab a paper towel, wet it under the sink and then try to rub all the makeup off. The lipstick mostly comes off, but my lips and cheeks still look a bit pink. Whatever. I could just say it's from being out in the cold.

I leave the bathroom and find Stan in his room, on his computer. "Thanks man" I wave, ready to turn around and leave. "Gotta go face my parents now, before my mom starts a riot. Seeya."

He turns around in his swivel chair. "Wait!"

I pause, stepping back into the room again. "Yeah?"

He frowns, shooting me his signature worried face. "You can't just leave me in the dark here. What the fuck have you been up to??"

I open my mouth to respond, but I don't know what to say. "What do you mean?"

He just rolls his eyes. "Your mom said you got in a fight and left, were gone all night, and then I find you running down the street like you were being chased by a ghost, with lipstick and glitter all over your face. What the hell happened??"

I take a deep sigh. Why do I feel like I'm already being debriefed by my mother? "I don't really want to talk about it, Stan."

He looks worried and offended at the same time. "Why not? What the hell did Cartman do to you this time??"

I start to get angry. "I just said I don't want to talk about it!"

Stan gets up from his chair and walks up to me, grabbing my shoulder gently, as if he's talking to a child with a boo-boo. "Come on, I thought we were best friends..you can tell me anything you know."

I shrug his hand off my shoulder. "There's nothing to tell you! Just leave me alone," I choke. Oh god, why do I have to start crying now?

He frowns again, pulling me into a hug. "Dude."

"I have to go." I pull away from him and quickly leave his house.

* * *

After returning home, I endured another argument with my mother and returned to my bedroom. My computer is still disconnected, collecting dust in the attic. I flop down onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. I wish I had someone to talk to. I was a douche to Stan earlier, but the last night and morning has left me completely exhausted and short tempered. I don't think I can tell him about what happened. I know if I do, he'll try to start a fight with Cartman, and I don't want Cartman hurting Stan next. Who knows what the asshole is capable of.

Cartman is insane, selfish and delusional. Most of all, he's dangerous to hang out with. Why haven't I realized that yet? I just can't be friends with him. I'm starting to think he's had a bizarre obsession with me since elementary school.

He doesn't "like" me, he doesn't have a "crush" on me. He doesn't care about me at all. He just has a strange fetish for making me feel angry and humiliated. Why me? I have no idea. Maybe because I've always fed into his tricks. From now on, I just have to ignore him.

For awhile, I started to think he had finally begun to change. It almost seemed like we had a normal friendship. Hell, we actually had a lot of fun online. Now that's all over. I roll over and stare at the wall, beginning to drift off to sleep. I'm too tired to dwell on the crazy fatass. 


	9. Delusionally Desperate

_(Cartman's POV)_

I spend the rest of the weekend sleeping, stuffing my face, and hiding under my blanket, clutching my stuffed animals. My face is stained with tears and cookie crumbs, and I smell like a bag of rotten Doritos. I want to just forget about the past 24 hours and pretend they didn't happen. Sure, it was fun to mess with Kyle while it lasted, but the party's over.

"Eric, you're such a pathetic asshole, teehee!" Cupid Me flies around my bed, sadistically mocking me with his tongue out.

"Fuck you!" I throw a dorito at him, hoping it gauges his eye out.

"Stop wallowing around like a little emo kid, Kahl doesn't even like you! Nobody likes you because you're so fat!" he taunts.

"That's not true! Eric isn't fat, he's just beefy! He looks totally ripped and sweet!" Polly Prissy Pants intervenes.

"Would all of you just shut up!!" I scream. I watch as Cupid Me vanishes into a poof of pink dust.

I hang my head in annoyance. I wish I could just erase yesterday. If only Kyle's bitchy mom didn't take his computer away, and we could just go back to our little virtual world. Where we'd play for hours...with Kyle giving me and _only me_ his attention. In that world, he was actually _mine_. Before we started playing the game, he wouldn't even give me the time of day.

I guess it was too good to be true. It was just a stupid game. But I don't want to accept that. I look down at a photo of Kyle I had stashed in my drawer and run my fingers over his lips.

On the bright side, the police never showed up at my door. Kyle kept his promise; he obviously loves me. He's gonna forgive me for all of this! I give my stuffed frog a hug. Suddenly, an idea pops up in my head. I know just what to do to get him to forgive me.

* * *

_(Kyle's POV)_

Monday morning came too fast. I have to drag myself out of the house, fearing that I'll probably see _him_ at the bus stop. I take as long as possible before walking out the door. When I get to the bus stop, I only see Stan and Kenny standing there. Phew. Maybe he's not coming to school.

As I approach the bus stop, Stan gives me a concerned look, and I force a smile at him to show that I'm okay. Otherwise, I'm silent until the bus arrives. I get on and sit in an empty seat. Stan sits next to Wendy, and Kenny sits next to Jimmy. The bus door closes and is ready to take off before it opens again. I look out the window to see exactly what I hoped I wouldn't - fatass running down the street. He hurries onto the bus, panting. Oh fuck. I try to sink down into my seat as low as possible, so he doesn't see me, but it's too late. Before I can even think to slide over, he plops down beside me in my seat.

I'm speechless. Stan crooks his head around and notices what's going on, taking note of my " _help me_ " expression, but he just shrugs and turns back around. Thanks a lot, Stan!

Cartman turns to look at me. I scowl at him. "Go sit somewhere else, asshole."

He frowns, but makes no effort to get up, instead setting his backpack down on the floor. He unzips his bag and pulls something out, then hands it to me.

A teddy bear. It's a fucking teddy bear. I stare at it. A small white stuffed bear, holding a red heart. On the red heart is the word " _Sorry_ " with a sad smiley face.

Seriously? What the hell is going through his mind? Does he think this is going to make up for his bullshit?

"You're not sorry." I grit my teeth.

He looks down at the floor. "Well, uh, see, you're wrong, because I totally am sorry, Kahl. I did something that was bad, apparently. But, I'm real sorry and you can forgive me now."

I shove the bear back into his hands and look out the window, hoping he'll get a fucking clue and sit somewhere else. I shouldn't have to forgive him anymore, after all the shit he's done to me! He's run out of forgiveness from me. He looks at me as though _I'm_ the one who should feel guilty here for not accepting his fake apology.

In Cartman's world, you can do anything you want and just say you're sorry and get away with it. He's already lucky that I didn't try to press legal charges. I'm not giving him any more satisfaction.

"Kahl?" he pokes my shoulder. "Kahl?" He pokes me again. "I said I was sorry. You can stop being mad at me now."

I continue to ignore him. I'm starting to feel like a boiling tea kettle, ready to blow my lid. He pokes me a third time, and I finally lose it. "Leave me alone, you fucking asshole!" I scream, probably a little too loud.

Half the people nearby turn around to look at us, including Stan. They soon turn back around in their seats, probably used to seeing me scream at Cartman by now. Stan gives me a sympathetic look before he turns back around as well.

Cartman looks down at the bear in his hands before getting up from the seat. I'm shocked that he let up so easily. I take a deep sigh of relief as I shove my backpack where he was sitting.

* * *

_(Cartman's POV)_

So apparently, my big plan to win Kyle's trust back with a " _sorry_ " bear didn't work. I was almost certain that it would work. He's just being a stubborn jerk. I reluctantly move out of the seat, looking for another empty seat as I scan the bus aisle. I see Butters beaming at me and patting the seat next to him. With a sigh, I take a seat next to the dweeb.

I haven't talked to Butters much lately. He looks at me and frowns. "Whatsamatter, Eric? I ain't seen you look so down in awhile."

I look down at the teddy bear in my hands and let out a fake sniffle. "I-I think..Kahl is breaking up with me."

Butters looks confused and concerned at the same time. "Oh, I uh, didn't know you two were a thing.."

I sniffle again. "Yeah..we've been secretly dating for the past few months," I whisper, leaned in. "He didn't want anyone to know, so don't tell anyone. But now, he's not talking to me because of some super silly little thing."

"Ah, umm, I see." Butters fiddles with his hands. "Well, what is it?"

I pause. "Oh, it's um, nothing really. We just got into a little fight. I tried to say I'm sorry with this bear, but he just threw it back at me and told me to fuck off."

"Gee, what a jerk," Butters replies sympathetically.

"Well, you know Kahl, he always overreacts to everything like a bitch."

"Heh, yeah," Butters chuckles. "So...what're you gonna do now?"

"I don't know, Butters. I don't know." I sigh, looking ahead at the green hat slumped against the window.

* * *

_(Kyle's POV)_

The bus arrives and I hurriedly get off, trying to get away from everyone, but I'm approached by Stan. "Hey, dude, are you going to talk to me?? What's wrong?"

I take a deep sigh. I was ignoring Stan's concerned texts all weekend, so he's probably understandably curious by now. "Not right now. We'll talk later."

He frowns again, but decides not to push it. We continue to walk up to the school in silence, and I wave goodbye as he goes down a different hallway. Then I'm tapped on the shoulder by another person. I turn around to see Cartman on the other side of me. I instantly freeze. "I just need to talk to you, Kahl."

Before I can even tell him to fuck off, he's yanking me by the arm and pulling me down the hallway. He's walking very briskly as he drags me, despite my resistance. We turn the corner into an empty hallway. "Nonono! Stop! Help! Help-"

He clamps a hand over my mouth and shoves me inside an empty classroom, quietly shutting the door.

I try to push him away and get out, but he stands in front of the door, blocking it and shoving me off by my shoulders. I start to panic.

"Calm your tits, I'm not going to hurt you!" Cartman huffs, while I continue struggling to push him away from the doorknob. He's too damn fat to push out of the way. "I just wanted to talk to you for one minute!"

Reluctantly, I give up. "One minute, then I'm out of here."

Cartman looks at me awkwardly, then down at the floor. "Well..are you ever going to forgive me?"

I glower at him. "Probably not."

"Probably not? So you're saying I still have a chance?" he grins, as though he thinks this is funny. It only pisses me off more. "Look, I don't want this weekend's silly incident to come between.. _us_."

Still grinning that crazy smile, he moves towards me and puts his chubby hands on my waist. I yank them off me and back up. He takes a few more steps towards me and I push him away.

"There is no "us". You're a fucking lunatic. Just..stay away from me!" I warn.

He just continues smiling at me. "Oh come on, babe..are you seriously this mad at me? Just for handcuffing you to my bed? On the game you let me do it, but I try it _once_ in real life, and suddenly I'm some kind of creepy predator. Psh."

"Yes, you _ARE_ a creepy predator. Don't act like I have any reason left to trust you. Now move out of my way, fatass," I glare at him sternly.

He drops to his knees and tackles my leg, rendering me immobile. "What the fuck!" I yell.

"Pleaseeee! Just give me another chance, Kahl!" he whines, squeezing my leg like a snake. "I-I'm sorry I forced our first kiss like that! You can tie me up and torture me if you want! Just don't leave meee!"

My eyes widen in disbelief. Jesus, I've never seen him look this vulnerable and pathetic before. "I'm not _leaving_ you, because we were never together, asshole! And we never will be, because I have no interest in you at all! I'm straight!"

"D-don't say that, babe! I know you're just saying it because you're mad at me!" He sniffles, continuing to squeeze the circulation out of my left leg. "It's not true, y-you love me! You have to!"

I try with all my might to move towards the door, but I end up tripping and falling. In that moment, my leg is released from his grasp. I quickly grab the door knob and bolt out, running to my class.

* * *

I manage to avoid Cartman for the rest of the morning at school. Lunchtime comes and I almost consider not going, but Stan finds me in the hallway and pretty much forces me into the cafeteria. I sit down at our usual bench and look up at Stan and Kenny, who are watching me intently with interrogating faces.

"Alright. Will you please tell us what the hell is going on with you and Cartman??" Stan demands. They're staring me down like hawks, waiting for my answer.

I get nervous as I scramble to think up an excuse. As fucked up as it sounds, I'm not only afraid of Cartman, I'm also completely embarrassed by the situation, even if it wasn't my fault. I know Kenny will laugh, and I don't want Stan to go and tell my parents or get the police involved. I really just want to forget about it, and safely try to avoid Cartman for the rest of my life. If I hadn't run into Stan on the sidewalk Saturday, that might be a possibility. Now it's like everyone needs to know my business.

Before I can blurt out something stupid, Butters comes over and sits down, with Cartman following in tow. "Heya fellas," Butters greets, sitting next to me. Cartman sits directly across from me, looking me right in the eye as he plops down on the bench. He holds a cold, blank stare for several long seconds. It makes me uncomfortable. I'm unable to decipher it, no emotion whatsoever on his face as he bores his disturbing gaze upon me.

If he's trying to intimidate me, it's working. I get up from the bench and walk off. I just don't wanna deal with him; I don't even want to be around him. Stan calls after me, but I ignore him. I don't know why the hell I'm being such a pussy, I'm just letting the asshole win. But the way he stared at me like that, it just seemed..unexplainably psychopathic. I need to keep a distance from him, literally.

I get out of the cafeteria and run to the bathroom. I feel like a coward, but I didn't want to be in there with him boring into me with those crazy eyes.

I look into the mirror and can see that my face is slightly drained of color, as if I'd seen a ghost. Not a ghost, but a monster. I splash some water over my face and take a deep breath.

* * *

_(Cartman's POV)_

I stare intensely at Kyle. He can't do this to me. He just can't. He _has_ to be mine. He can't just say he is straight, that's bullshit! I watch as he takes off like a scared little girl. What a little bitch. Stan is sitting across from me, giving me a dirty look. I scowl back at him. "Alright Cartman, what the hell did you do to Kyle this time?"

"Nothing, why?" I ask, trying to gauge what he knows. "Did Kahl _tell_ you that I did anything to him? Cuz if not, then just leave me alone."

Stan glares at me. "No, he won't talk to me, but it's obvious that something is going on. He said he'd tell me later."

Aha. So the asshole _was_ eventually planning to crack to his butt buddy. He clearly wasn't going to keep his promise of "not telling a soul". I knew I couldn't trust a Jew. Before I can respond, Butters cuts in. "Why, Eric didn't do nuthin. Kyle's the one being a jerk!"

Oh god, thank you Butters. I smile smugly, nodding my head. "He's right. Kahl is the one being an asshole, not me."

Stan shakes his head. "He was missing all night, and the next morning I found him frantically running down the street, coming from your house. What was really weird is that he had makeup smudged all over his face. You did something to him, Cartman, just admit it."

Oh, shit. I need to think something up, fast. I fold my hands on the table. "Fine. You want the truth? Well..." I take a deep breath. "Kahl and I have been...secretly dating. For the past few months. He didn't want anyone to know. Anyway, that morning we had a little fight, and he ran off. Oh yeah, and um, the makeup..that's uh, just something we're secretly into, because we're flaming homos."

Kenny gasps, and Stan's mouth opens in disbelief. He's speechless for a few moments, before he finally speaks. "I don't believe you one bit."

"It's totally true, you guys! Why would I be making this up?"

Stan wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion. "Kyle's never even been interested in guys, especially you. He's my best friend, he would have told me if this was true."

I glare at him. "Yeah, well, you obviously don't know him that well, asshole! Why do you think he's spent all his time with me lately?"

Kenny looks as if a lightbulb suddenly went off in his head. "I knew something weird was going on with you two."

Stan glares back at me angrily. "So then why did he look scared out of his mind when I found him??"

I straighten my posture. "He was probably just scared to be going back to face his bitchy ass mom. That's why he stayed the night at my house, he got in a fight with his mom."  
  
Stan looks like he isn't buying my story. He knows Kyle too well. "Bullshit. I'm going to ask him about this later."

I take a deep sigh, as I reluctantly pull out my phone. Well, there's no going back now. "If you ask him, he'll just deny it. He doesn't want anyone to know about us. He's embarrassed and deeply closeted. But I'll prove it." I open up my pictures and pull out a photo I took Friday night, while we were high. He's leaning on my shoulders, with us both smiling. He probably doesn't even remember it, but it looks convincingly enough like a couples picture. I show it to Stan and Kenny. Butters takes a look at it too, before going "Aww."

Stan still looks skeptical. "This doesn't prove anything. And I still don't believe that Kyle would willingly wear lipstick and glitter on his face, that doesn't seem like him at all."

I roll my eyes dramatically. "Well get with the 21st century, Stan! Kahl and I are secretly into drag, and that morning he stayed over, we were doing each others makeup. This was before we got into our little fight and he took off. Now you know our horrible secret."

Since I know Stan will need some more convincing evidence, I scroll through my phone until I find a particular picture at the end. It's of me kissing him, both of us wearing makeup and wigs. I quietly snapped it while his eyes were closed, so he doesn't even know I took it. From my expert angle, you can't see his handcuffed hand. It really looks like a genuine kiss.

I take a deep breath before holding my phone up at them. Stan's jaw drops. He leans in closer to look at the photo. "Wait, that's not..oh fuck, that _is_ him."

"Holy shit!" Kenny looks equally surprised, even Butters does as well.

But Stan..he looks like he wants to throw up. He looks truly sickened as he stares at the photo. I'm pleased with his reaction. I snatch my phone back and put it back in my pocket. "No fucking way. That can't be real," Stan's voice quivers.

I grin sadistically at Stan. "Oh, it's real. As real as the moans he makes when I cum in his mouth."

"Ugh!" Stan smashes his head down on the table. "I did NOT need that image in my head."

Butters looks uncomfortable as well. "Yeah, Eric, please spare us from the details. Poor ole Stan looks about ready to blow chunks all over the table."

Kenny looks at me curiously. "So all that time you guys were avoiding us, it wasn't just to play that stupid game. You guys were..wow. I knew _something_ was up, but I didn't expect this."

I grin at Kenny. "Yeah, and he's been avoiding me lately over some silly little argument we had. Took it way too personally when I called him a stupid Jew and called his mom a bitch. Anyway, I wasn't supposed to tell you guys any of this, so can you please keep it a secret and not mention it to him? He would die if he knew I told you this, or showed you that photo."

Stan looks at me with utter disgust. "So then why _did_ you??"

"Yeah, some boyfriend you are," Kenny smirks.

I roll my eyes dramatically. "Because you guys wouldn't stop pestering either one of us about it! Now you know everything, so just let this go and don't tell him about anything I told you, for his sake. He's not ready to come out yet."

Stan and Kenny exchange dubious glances.

"Fine. I won't bother him about it. It's none of my business what he does privately," Stan sighs. "Even if I think he's lost his mind."


	10. Still Not Giving Up

_(Kyle's POV)_

The rest of my day goes by agonizingly slowly. The only good thing about it is that Cartman actually leaves me alone for the rest of the day. Well, aside from staring laser beams at me during the last class of the day, the one that I unfortunately share with him. I could see his constant gaze from the corner of my eye throughout the whole history class.

As soon as the bell rings, I jump out of my seat to leave. A bunch of other students quickly form a herd around the door, so I stand back and wait to get out. I notice him standing behind me staring, yet again. I turn around to stare back at him, giving my best "what the hell are you looking at??" face.

He glares back at me with the same blank look he gave me in the cafeteria, before wordlessly walking out the door.

I wait until he disappears before I leave, releasing a deep sigh. I guess I've made it through this day's bullshit, now I can go home.

But not before dealing with Stan again, who sits beside me as we get on the bus. He looks really uncomfortable, I have no idea why.

"What's up, man?" I greet with a smile. I've been a dick to him lately for no good reason. Since I'm no longer associating with Cartman, it's time I started giving more attention to my  _real_  friend. I can't believe I basically abandoned him for that asshole.

He smiles back, but still looks uneasy about something. He opens his mouth to speak, before closing it.

"Umm..so hey, we're still best friends?" he eventually asks, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

I smile at him guiltily. "Of course, dude. I know I've been kinda ignoring you lately, I was being a huge dick and I'm sorry."

He smiles back. "It's alright. So.." he hesitates, "you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Like..I wouldn't judge you no matter what it is, you know?"

Before I can respond, he continues. "Even if it were something that you'd be afraid to tell me, because you think I'd find it weird, or think you're crazy-"

Before he can finish, I see Cartman standing next to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He clears his throat. " _Excuse me_ , I wanted to sit next to Kyle."

I glare at him. "Fuck off, this is Stan's seat."

Stan looks up worriedly and waves his hands. "No, it's OK. He's your.." He awkwardly looks at Cartman, before looking back at me. "Um. Yeah. I'll just go sit next to Kenny."

"No, you can sit with me, it's okay!" I plead with Stan, confused.

"No. It's  _mah_  seat!" Cartman whines.

Stan gets up from the seat, grabbing his backpack. "It's fine. I'll let you guys have your space."

Cartman grins smugly before sitting down in the now empty seat. Stan awkwardly waves goodbye at me before moving down the aisle and sitting next to Kenny. They're both talking and staring at me and Cartman.

What the fuck is going on?

I scowl at Cartman and try to push him off the seat. "NO. Go away!"

He just grins at me, refusing to move. His size leaves little free space in the bus seat, so I'm cramped against the window. Some "best friend" Stan is.

"Come on Kahl, am I  _that_  repulsive?" he frowns, intrusively draping an arm around my shoulder.

I try to heave his arm away, but he puts up resistance, clamping his hand around my shoulder blade.

For fucks sake, I just wanted to get home without being harassed.

"You're really testing your luck, fatass," I warn gravely.

"Stop playing mister hard-to-get and just admit that we're great together," he whispers in my ear. I shiver uncomfortably.

"I think a better fit would be my foot with your ass," I whisper back, leaning my head against the window. I'm basically trapped in this seat.

He smiles deviously at me. "If only you knew how many stiffies I've gotten from you physically threatening me like that."

I bang my head against the window. What have I done to deserve this unholy punishment??

"Please stop. I know you have trouble comprehending the word " _no_ ", but I've already told you I am  _NOT_  interested," I say firmly, finally pushing his hand off me.

"Yeah yeah yeah. You're "straight". That's bullshit, nobody is completely straight. Are you telling me if you were stuck on island forever with just some guy, you'd never experiment?" he scoffs.

"If it was you, no. Definitely no."

He rolls his eyes. "And what's so bad about me?? You like chicks, right? Because they have boobs? Well, I've got boobs too." He cups his chest, squeezing his tits. I gag at the sight.

"Those aren't boobs, those are a symptom of obesity."

"Boobs are nothing but lumps of fat around a nipple," he argues back. "Same thing."

I'm almost tempted to get into an argument with him over male and female breasts, before I realize how stupid and pointless that would be. Besides, I'm trying to ignore him, so I keep my head against the window and remain quiet. I can't wait to finally get off the bus.

Barely a minute passes before he starts talking again. "So if you were trapped on an island with just Stan for the rest of your life, would you screw him?"

"No!" I yell.

"Why not?"

"Because he's like my brother, and that would be weird. Now leave me alone!"

"But I thought Jews were into incest," he smirks.

I punch him in the arm. "Back to the old bullshit about Jews are we?"

"Ow!" He glares at me, rubbing his arm. "Look at Einstein, he married his cousin," he continues, in spite of my punch. "Everyone thinks he was so smart, but he was dumb enough to screw his own cousin."

I don't bother entertaining him with a response. Luckily the bus reaches our stop before I have to endure any more stupid conversations.

I see Stan get off first, then Cartman finally shoves his ass out of the seat and stands up. I get up behind him and push him to move.

"Stop pushing me, Jew!"

"Move your fat ass already!"

Eventually we get off the bus. I'm happy to see Stan waiting for me on the side of the street. I run over to him. "Don't ever make me sit next to him again!"

Stan looks confused and shrugs. "Sorry, dude. I just thought that....um....nevermind."

"What??" I ask. Stan is acting really weird, and I'm curious to know what crawled up his pants.

Cartman approaches us and interrupts our conversation yet again. "Do you guys want to come over my house?"

"NO," I yell. "Fuck off!"

He scowls at me. " _Fine_ , asshole. Screw you guys, I'm goin' home."

I watch as he slowly walks off down the street. He suddenly turns around and glares at us. Specifically, at Stan, for some reason I don't understand. There is something seriously wrong with that kid.

Stan gulps and turns to me. "Okay, I think we should talk."

I sigh, predicting that he was going to say this to me. "Alright."

Cartman keeps turning his head around to watch us as he walks off. "Let's go to my house, okay?" Stan asks.

I shrug. Not that I want to be an asshole, but I'd much rather be taking a nap than being interrogated, even if he is my friend. I end up following him to his house anyway.

Stan's mom greets us, and we go up to his room like we usually do. Except I haven't really hung out with him in awhile lately. I notice that he has a new desk chair now. He sits down in it, while I sit on the floor, propped against his bed.

"Alright, Kyle. Are you gonna tell me what happened this weekend?" he looks at me, concerned.

I start to get nervous, unsure if telling the truth would lead to more drama than it's worth or not.

I decide to tell him the real truth; that I'd rather not talk about it. "Sorry, Stan, but I don't really want talk about that. I assure you I'm fine though."

He frowns, leaning back in his chair. "See, I don't know why you feel like you can't talk to me. I'm just worried about you."

I chuckle, confused. "Well don't be worried, because I'm fine."

"Look," he frowns, "If by any chance you were, say, in an abusive relationship with someone, I want you to feel safe enough to tell me. Hypothetically speaking of course."

I burst out laughing. "Why would you think I'm in an abusive relationship?? I'm not even dating anyone."

Stan looks at me seriously. He thinks I'm lying. "Alright, whatever you say."

Suddenly, everything clicks for me. "Oh, jeez.. _no_. NO, Stan. I don't know how you got the idea, but  _no_. I fucking hate Cartman. I'm not even his friend anymore."

"So you broke up with him, right?" he asks.

I glare at him incredulously. "We were never dating. What the fuck, dude?? Where did you get this idea??"

Stan looks confused, and clearly uncomfortable about having this conversation. "Um..he told us about it."

I hold my hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming. " _Us_?? Who's us??"

"Um. Me, Kenny and Butters. As far as I know." Stan replies, looking worried. "He told us after you left the cafeteria at lunch. He said it was a secret, that you didn't want anyone to know."

My stomach sinks. "That fucking asshole."

"It gets worse," he grimaces. "He showed us a picture.." he gags, "of you guys..kissing." He looks like he is going to throw up. "You don't have to keep secrets from me, dude. I won't judge you. I may not get it, like,  _AT ALL_ , but - I'm still your friend."

My blood starts to boil. Without a word, I grab my backpack and stomp out of his house, fuming. This is the second time I've walked out on Stan, but I'm just too pissed off to stay.

Instead of going home like any logical person would do, I find myself standing in front of Cartman's front door. I told myself I was going to ignore him, but I'm not going to let him get away with this.

I ring the doorbell four times. Eventually, the door opens with a creak, as his pudgy face peeks out to look.

"Kahl?" he looks confused to see me as he opens the door. Before he can say any more, my fist collides with his face.

He recoils, grabbing his nose. I see a little bit of blood trickling out of it and feel a sweet sense of vindication.

At least, until he speaks.

"Oww, fuck!" he curses, holding his bloody nose. Then he smirks at me. "God, I love it when you're rough to me like that."

My eyes widen, and I fight the urge to scream. I quickly turn around and begin to run home.


	11. Instagram Defamation

_(Kyle's POV)_

I slowly pry open my heavy eyelids. My bedroom is dark, and the house is silent. It must be past midnight. I guess I fell asleep in my clothes again. I close my eyes and start to drift back asleep.

Before long, a shuffling noise wakes me up again. I squint open my eyes, and see a figure standing beside my bed. Startled, I jump. I rub my eyes and take a second glance. I must be half asleep, surely imagining things.

"Hello Kahl," the figure speaks, it's voice breathy and musty.

Jumping again, I clumsily scoot backwards on my bed, grabbing hold of my pillow defensively (as though it could actually protect me.) "W..what the fuck?? Why are you here??"

"Oh, no reason really. Just watching you sleep," he smirks. It's Cartman, but something about him looks..off. I just barely notice his eyes. It almost appears as though there is a faint glow emanating from them.

My mouth hangs open slightly. "..How did you even get in here?? I swear I locked all the windows."

"A magician never tells his secrets." He smiles as he stands there, peering at me like a predator. The glow coming from his eyes looks even more intense now.

"Get out. I'm calling the cops!" I warn, my voice trembling. I frantically search under my bed for my cell phone, but it's not there. I could have sworn I left it there before falling asleep. I suddenly feel my bed mattress sinking down next to me, as I sink down with the heavy weight.

A heavy arm squeezes around me, pulling me towards him like a snake. I struggle to get away, but for some reason, I'm frozen and cannot move. "Relax, Kahl," he breathes down my neck. "Go back to sleep." He pulls out something from his side and presses it against my temple. I feel the cold metal barrel against my head. My pulse quickens.

"We'll finally be together after this," he whispers. _Click_. The last thing I feel is a sharp pressure shooting through my head. This is it, my life is over.

I jump out of my bed, sweating and shaking. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I look around the dark room and see nothing. Releasing a deep breath, I try to calm myself down. It was just an awful dream.

Lately this bastard has been occupying my thoughts and fears. Now he's showing up in my dreams, too. I can't even escape him in my sleep! I've got to find a way to put an end to this.

Feeling too restless to go back to sleep, I reach under my bed for my cellphone. It's actually there this time. I take it out and turn it on, seeing that the time is almost 1AM.

I sigh and open my notifications.

One text message from Kenny. "Whats going on w/ u and fatass?"

Five texts from Stan, all of which are to inform me that he's very worried about me.

And finally, there is an instagram notification. Apparently, I've been tagged in a photo. That's weird, because nobody's taken any photos of me lately. I've barely even left my house in months.

I skip the texts and click on the instagram link. My jaw drops. It's a picture of Cartman's bruised face and swollen nose, with a red heart graphic added next to it. The title reads, "Sometimes love hurts. #abuse #abusiveboyfriend #kyle"

I stare at the screen in utter disbelief. The picture has over 100 likes, with a bunch of comments underneath - many of which are sympathetic or supportive.

Bebe wrote, "omg!" - how descriptive. Butters wrote, "Poor Eric. We're all here for ya!" I cannot believe how fucking gullible Butters still is. A random stranger whom I do not know simply wrote, "you deserve better." Another random stranger left a comment saying, "break up with that a-hole!"

Yeah, "break up" with me! Leave me alone already, you fucking fuck face!

I throw my phone back under the bed, unable to read any further. This is getting insane. He's gone too far. It's apparently not enough that he embarrasses me in private, so now he has to publicly destroy my reputation as well.

As I lay there stewing in anger, I impulsively decide to take my phone back out. I pull up his name and begin tapping my phone's screen furiously. "What the fuck is your problem?? Can't you handle rejection like a normal human being?? No, you have to be a lying attention whore! I'm starting to get really pissed with your bullshit!"

I angrily hit the send button.

Minutes later, he replies. "sorry u feel that way :("

His response makes me want to strangle something. What does that even fucking mean? I really hate these mental games.

"Why are you doing this??" I type. "Do you just enjoy drama or something??"

I don't get a response.

* * *

The next morning, I approach the bus stop, exhausted but determined. I'm not going to let Cartman ruin my reputation and sanity for his own giggling amusement.

He's standing besides Stan and Kenny as usual, the bruising on his face even more visible now.

I walk up to him, grab him by the jacket collar and look him sternly in the eyes. "You're going to tell everyone the truth today, or I'll tell them myself."

His eyes nervously dart back and forth, glancing at Stan and Kenny before looking back at me. "W-what truth?"

"For starters, why don't you tell Stan and Kenny how you lied about us being in a relationship??" I let go of his collar, watching as he stumbles backwards.

"How about how you chained me to your bed when I was passed out?? And then forced me to kiss you?? And now you're trying to make me look like some crazy abusive person, when _you're_ the piece of shit!"

Stan gasps, while Kenny just watches inquisitively. Cartman looks very nervous and uncomfortable. Good, he should be. He scratches the back of his neck. "Kahl, you're being irrational. Don't try to turn this around on me."

I chuckle incredulously. "Oh my god, you're such a lying bastard.." I turn to face Stan and Kenny. "You guys believe me, right?"

They don't respond, both simply looking confused. Stan looks at me, then at Cartman, then back at me again, as if trying to figure out what's going on. Seriously??

Cartman smiles smugly at me. "It's hard for you to defend your embellished story when the evidence is right on my face, Jew. Sure, _I'm_ the abusive one! _I_  made everything up, and you're just some innocent victim! Then why am _I_ the one with a bruised and swollen nose? Stan and Kenny know that you've always been overly aggressive and physically violent with me."

I stomp my boot in the snow angrily. "Don't drag Stan and Kenny into this! Besides, they know that you've always been manipulative and creepily obsessed with me! You deserved to get punched for what you did!"

He glares at me angrily. "For what?? Being a caring boyfriend? Is that what you call "obsessed"? You're just pissed about me telling them about our little secret..they were going to find out sooner or later, Kahl!"

"We are _not_ boyfriends!!" I scream, pushing him into the snow. He falls straight onto his fat ass. "Quit your bullshit!"

I watch as he pulls himself back up, brushing the snow off himself. "Why are you so ashamed to be gay? Why are you so ashamed of _me_?" he asks, his voice quivering. And then, he does something completely insane. He actually starts crying. Like, real liquid tears. I'm completely floored.

I am even more shocked when Kenny walks up to him and embraces him in a supportive hug. I stand there with my mouth agape. Cartman shakes and sobs like a man who just lost his mother to terminal cancer. He releases himself from Kenny's hug and looks straight at me, tears welling up in his eyes. "Sc-screw you guys..I'm going home."

With that, he takes off and shuffles down the street, continuing to shake and sob uncontrollably.

I'll be damned if that wasn't an Oscar worthy performance.

I turn to face Stan, who still looks conflicted. "You at least believe me, right Stan?"

Stan looks uncomfortable, shuffling back and forth on his feet. "I..I don't know if I really should get involved in this, dude."

"Look, there's only one side to this. Cartman is lying and making all of this shit up for attention. Come on, you know about all the shit he's done to me," I pleadingly try to convince him.

Kenny gives me a slightly skeptical look. "But..he seems..actually hurt. He was texting me last night, he seemed pretty serious. And now he's literally crying over you. It's kind of hard to believe that this is all one sided."

I let out a "grrr". Before I even get a chance to explain further, the bus comes down the street. I sigh and rub my head. The day hasn't even started yet and I'm already stressed out. I get on the bus and see Butters giving me the stink eye. I roll my eyes at him and immediately jump into the seat next to Stan.

"He's trying to drive me insane," I utter quietly.

"Well, if that's the case, we have to do something about it," Stan replies, patting me on the back. "I won't let my best friend go insane!"

"What can I do? He's a magnificent actor and liar. He's even got you convinced," I groan.

"I wouldn't say I'm 'convinced', I just wonder if there's more to the story. You've been avoiding me and Kenny for months to hang out with him. And I mean, he showed us that picture. What was I supposed to assume?"

I give Stan a " _come on_ " look. "That picture was taken while I was passed out. We were at his house, and we got high, and I fell asleep in his bed, and then he kissed me while I was asleep. I didn't even know that he took a picture."

"Uhuh.." Stan nods. I don't think he really believes me. Fuck, I probably wouldn't believe myself if I were Stan, either. The truth doesn't sound as convincing as Cartman's elaborate story and act.

"Look, I don't care if you believe me or not. But just think about it. Why would I like him? I'm not gay, and even if I were, he'd be my _last_ choice. I hate him, he's always treated me like shit. Yet he's got this strange infatuation with me, dude. He won't take "no" for an answer. It's creepy as fuck. I had a nightmare last night that he killed me."

Stan's eyes widen. "Hey, don't worry, I believe you. You need to keep yourself safe. But..why the hell would you spend the night at his house, are you crazy??"

"I thought he had changed," I sigh.

"You need to stop assuming that he's going to change," Stan says simply.

Truer words have never been spoken.

* * *

_(Cartman's POV)_

Sniffling, I enter my house, throwing my backpack on the floor and heading straight for the kitchen. I flip open the cabinet and pull out a box of chocolate snack cakes. I take it with me as I sit down on the couch, tearing the box apart and ripping open a package. I desperately shove a cake into my mouth, tears still flowing and snot running out of my nose. Why am I still crying? It was supposed to be just an act..

I get up and grab a tissue, blowing my nose. I take the whole box of tissues with me and lay down on the couch, flipping the television on. After I finish the first cake, I throw another one into my mouth. And another. And another. Before I know it, half an hour has passed and I've finished the whole box.

The waterworks stopped awhile ago, leaving me with dried tears on my cheek. I go to the bathroom and examine my face in the mirror. I look like shit. Red puffy eyes, swollen and bruised nose, hair sticking out all over.

Why would anyone ever love me? I look like shit. I _am_ shit. There is nothing loveable about me. I'm fat, a chronic liar, a sadist, a selfish and greedy bastard..I don't care about anyone but myself. I do anything for attention or money..I've been a con artist..a criminal..sometimes I think Satan put me here on this Earth as an example of what not to be.

"You even killed your own father, you psycho! Teehee!" a familiar voice echoes in my head. This time, I don't see the little bastard, I just hear him.

"Just get out of my brain, you asshole!" I scream.

"I can't! I _am_ your brain, silly!" he taunts back.

I splash some cold water onto my face and try to will the voice away. I go upstairs and flop belly down onto my bed, staring out the window.

Eventually I pull out my cellphone. I open my instagram, scrolling through all the new likes and comments. People who typically never care about me were saying really nice and supportive things. It feels good. I knew this would get me plenty of attention.

Kyle was right, I'm a lying attention whore. But fuck Kyle, he's an asshole. He thinks he's so much better than me just because he pretends to care about morals and shit, and because he's not fat..

I close my eyes. I begin to fantasize about a life where I'm fit, I have lots of friends, and everybody likes me, especially Kyle..

_I'm sitting back in a fine leather armchair, looking out of the large window in my office. I just happen to be the millionaire CEO of a successful company. I'm wearing a fine tailored suit, my hair is perfect, and I look totally hot. Somebody briefly knocks on my office door before opening it. Kyle waltzes in, dropping a folder on my desk. He's wearing pants that make his ass look great, along with a fitted button up dress shirt. He's got a slim and sexy figure._

_He smiles at me as I pick up the folder, examining the contents. "What's this?" I ask._

_"Oh, you know, some kind of financial report. Or something. It's not important." He smirks, sitting down on my lap. He's right, the contents of this folder are completely irrelevant to my fantasy. "I'm just here because I want you so badly right now.." he whispers, kissing my neck. Oh my god. I squeeze his ass and he moans seductively. "You're so totally hot, smart and cool, Eric." I like how he actually says my first name._

_I smile at him and bring my lips to his. We start making out passionately, touching and grabbing each other all over. A window wiper suddenly hangs down outside of my large office window, at first shocked at the sight, but then he smiles and gives me a thumbs up before continuing to lower his rope._

_Kyle slides off my lap and kneels down on the floor in front of my chair, positioned right in between my legs. "I need your balls in my mouth."_

_I raise my eyebrows at him excitedly. "Oh my..you're such a dirty boy, Kahl. What do you say?"_

_He desperately paws at my pants. "Please put your hot juicy balls in my mouth, Mr. Cartman."_

_"Call me Eric, babe," I smirk, as I begin to unzip my pants._

Just before my dream gets to the good part, I'm snapped out of it by my mother entering the room. God dammit.

"Eric, sweetie, why are you not at school?" she asks, pretending to be concerned.

I roll my eyes at her. "I felt sick, mom. And my nose still hurts."

She frowns, coming over to touch my forehead. "Oh my, you do feel warm. Let me get you an ice pack and some soup! Do you want anything else?"

"I don't need an icepack, mom. Some soup would be good though."

"Okay sweetie. Mummy loves you!" she coos in her sickeningly sweet voice. "I'll be right back."

I sigh, rolling over in my bed. Well, I guess I'm pretending to be sick today. Oh well, not like I have anything better to do than lay in bed. A small smile tugs at my face as I close my eyes, picking up the fantasy in my head where I left off.

* * *

It's about 4 PM when my mother informs me that I have a visitor. I'm still laying in my bed, wearing sweat pants and a sweatshirt. I look like a complete lazy slob. There is a box of tissues and a half eaten bag of chips next to my bed. I'm really in no mood to see anyone right now.

Regardless, Butters peeks his head through the door and enters, closing it behind him. He's got a pile of papers in his hands. "Hiya, Eric. I came to give you some classwork that you missed today."

I groan. "Ugh, fine. Put it over on my desk."

He does as he's told and smiles awkwardly at me, coming over to the side of my bed. "Are you okay? You look pretty sad."

I roll my eyes. "I'm fine, Butters. You can go home now if you want."

Instead of leaving though, he pulls up a chair next to me, frowning. "I feel like the worst friend ever. I had no idea you were in an abusive relationship."

I try really hard to look serious, forcing my face into a frown as well. "It's okay, man. Shit happens."

He grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze. "Don't say that! You're a great guy, and you deserve better. What Kyle did to you is not nice!"

I cough. "You're totally right. Kahl is such an asshole."

Butters looks at me sympathetically, before looking at the clock. "I'll stay here for awhile to keep you company. You look like you could use it."

I shake my head furiously. "No, no, it's okay Butters. I'm fine."

He looks at me sternly. "Eric..it's alright. I know you don't like to admit it, but you're a human bean, and you need affection! I know we haven't spent much time together lately, but I care a lot about ya."

Oh my god, this is too damn gay. Even for me. I force a smile.

"So what do you want to do? Whatcha been up to today?" he asks, looking around the dark room.

Ideally, I'd like him to leave, but I know that isn't going to happen. "Well, Butters, I've been just laying in bed all day, wallowing in depression and self hatred."

He tsks. "Aww, shucks. That sounds terrible. How about we watch a movie to take your mind off things?"

"Okay, fine," I sigh.

He grins and stands up, walking around to the other side of my bed. He pulls up the covers and slides underneath. Umm..

"What are you doing?" I question nervously, scooting as far towards the end of my bed as I can.

He clearly doesn't get the signal and scoots closer to me, wrapping his arm around me and leaning his head on my chest. Okay, what the fuck?

"I just wanted to comfort you. Come on, we're friends..we've done stuff like this before," he argues, petting my hair with one of his hands. "Remember when we used to cuddle?"

I choke, swatting his hand away from my hair. "We haven't done that since we were ten years old. I don't need your ' _comfort'_ , okay??"

He looks up into my eyes. I'm not comforted by this at all, it's just making me incredibly uncomfortable.

"Aww, come on Eric. Relax a little. You could use someone who really loves you.." he grabs my hand and softly kisses it. I'm too shocked to even move. "Someone who really appreciates you.."

"What are you saying??" I blurt out nervously.

He bites his lip anxiously. "I'm saying you deserve better than a boyfriend who acts ashamed of you, treats you like dirt, and beats you up." He takes a deep breath. "I..I've always liked you a lot, Eric.." he continues resting his head on me, linking his fingers with mine. I feel him give them a squeeze.

Jesus Christ, I never knew Butters could be so bold. I'm trying to mentally process all of this, but it's happening far too fast for me.

I try break it down into simple parts. I'm sad, and a pretty cute guy, who I've admittedly fantasized about on more than one occasion, is laying in my bed, telling me he likes me. Am I going to push him out? Hell no.

Not really knowing what else to do, I eagerly grab his face and lean in to kiss him. He leans up to get better access, resting his hands around my neck as we kiss. I feel a wave of anxiety and relief all at once..at the moment I can actually forget about my crush on Kyle. This is the first time I've kissed another guy consensually. It feels so much better than kissing an unwilling victim, and...suddenly it occurs to me, in a flash of clarity, that what I did to Kyle was..maybe..wrong?

It..it was wrong. What I did was wrong and..bad.

Feeling a wave of nausea and other unknown feelings brewing in the pit of my stomach, I push Butters off of me and jump out of bed, swinging open my bedroom door and running for the bathroom. I just barely make it to the toilet in time to start puking my guts up.

My mother hears me vomiting violently, and walks into the bathroom. "Aww, poor sweetie, you really _are_ sick.."


	12. Empathy?

_(Cartman's POV)_

After spending a solid ten minutes puking my repressed emotions into the toilet, I gargle with mouthwash and brush my teeth. I don't know what the hell has come over me. Did Butters brainwash me?

All of a sudden, I have this terrible feeling. It's kind of like..acknowledging that other people have feelings too? It's a truly bizarre experience. Maybe I really am sick.

Hypothetically, if I were Kyle, I guess..I'd be pissed at me too. I'd be humiliated as well. I would probably even punch me in the face. Wow, I've never even thought of it that way. It's like, your brain can do this strange mental trick, where you imagine how other people would feel if you were in their shoes. The discovery is mind boggling to me.

I leave the bathroom and head back to my room. Butters is still here, still laying in my bed. He smiles at me and pats the empty side, gesturing me to lay down.

As soon as I slip back into the bed, he cuddles up next to me. This is gay as fuck. When did Butters get a boner for me?? I'm surprised he would want to be so close to me after I just puked up my entire stomach contents. "Aren't you grossed out?" I ask, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Aww, course not, you can't help being sick. Your mom said you weren't feeling well today. Actually, you smell minty..did you mouthwash?" he asks, gently rubbing my belly.

"Err, yeah." It feels awkward to be smothered in Buttery affection, but I suppose it's better than wallowing about, shoving potato chips and snack cakes down my throat. "Did my mom ask what you were doing in my bed?"

"Naw. I jumped up after you ran to the bathroom and started puking," he explains.

Looks like I dodged a bullet there. My mother has never even seen me have a girl over. I don't want her thinking I lost my virginity to Butters, of all people. Oh my god. I wonder what that would be like. He seemed really into it when we kissed. He acts so naive, but I bet he has a freaky side. I try not to get a boner while thinking about it. Then I realize that he's been talking about stomach viruses and I haven't paid attention to a word he said.

"-some people in Kansas died from it. But it's also flu season, so maybe you've got the flu?" He looks up at me worriedly. "Either way, I don't want you to die, Eric! You've gotta see a doctor."

I take a deep sigh. "Look, I'm not really sick. I just had a strange experience," I tell him, his face inches away from me. Ugh, god, this is very awkward.

"Yeah?" He nods at me to continue.

I look away from him. "It was like, all of a sudden I had this weird feeling. Where like, I suddenly gave a shit about somebody other than myself? Not just you, I mean. I suddenly realized that I had done wrong to others. It was so weird, it made me puke. I don't know what to call it," I blurt out.

"Was it empathy?" Butters points out simply.

"Oh god," I clutch my stomach again, feeling another bout of nausea coming on. "Ergh, don't say that word."

"What? Empathy?" he repeats. God dammit.

"Yes!" I yell, trying to fight the rising waves of bile. "It makes me sick!"

"Awww," he coos, rubbing my back as I sit up. "See, I knew you weren't a total psychopath. Just let it all out, buddy."

I end up puking once more into a nearby trashcan.

* * *

( _Kyle's POV)_

Later that day at school, I decided that I needed to do something to put an end to the bullshit. So I reluctantly went to Mr. Mackey. I ended up informing him about everything that happened so far with Cartman. Screw the stupid deal I made about not telling on him - he's pushed me too far. Mr. Mackey said that he would have a talk with Cartman tomorrow, if he shows up to school.

I stuck around outside Mackey's office door for a minute after I was dismissed, overhearing him on the phone, mentioning something about possibly sending him to a facility for troubled kids.

I hope fatass gets at least some kind of punishment. But I can easily see him trying to get revenge on me now. Who knows what he'll do? He'll probably make up another story, and use that picture as some kind of defense. His stupid instagram picture became popular gossip at school, and now half the people who know me think that I'm Cartman's abusive boyfriend..even Heidi of all of people. I was receiving unsolicited questions and "relationship advice" from strangers all day. Wendy was one of the few people who was automatically skeptical about the rumors.

Since the weather was fairly nice, I ended up walking home with Stan and Wendy at the end of the day. They wanted to hear the real story, so I told them everything; how we got high, how I woke up in handcuffs with makeup all over my face and a wig on my head, his "tea party", his stuffed animals, the forced kiss, how he made me promise not to tell anyone. Retelling it all just makes me realize how ridiculous the whole situation was.

They both look speechless by the time I'm done with the story.

"Jesus, man," Stan says. "You know, you could have just told me this to begin with."

I frown, shoving my hands in my pocket. "I was worried about your safety. He's fucking insane, dude. If I told you, and you went and told an adult and got him in trouble, he might have ended up taking revenge on you, or both of us. He even mentioned you. Remember the time he kept me in his basement for eight days??"

Stan's eyes widen. "Yeah. Which is why I don't understand why you keep hanging out with him."

I remain quiet, having no intelligent response to that.

Wendy nods in agreement. "Really Kyle, I hope you stay away from him from now on. And get a real restraining order against him! This isn't something to take lightly!"

I nod, lowering my head. Stan offers to spend the night at my house so that I feel safer, to which I decline. Cartman is too fat to fit through our windows, anyway.

* * *

When I get home, before I even get a chance take my coat or backpack off, my mother runs to me frantically, suffocating me in a hug.

"Oh my god! Bubbe! Are you okay?!" She asks, squeezing me like a snake.

"I would be fine if you could just let go of me," I reply, gasping for air.

She releases me and takes a step back, looking me over worriedly. I finally shrug off my coat and hang it up. "I received a call from your school," she begins. "Mr. Mackey told me everything. My poor Kyle! Why are you still associating with that horrible boy?? And why didn't you tell us what happened??"

I take a deep sigh. I really wish they didn't go and tell my parents. I specifically asked Mackey not to. He of all people should know how my mother tends to react.

"I was just afraid, mom. And I thought he had changed. He seemed like he was being kind of decent to me until.."

She looks devastated. Unsurprisingly, she seems even more upset about this than I was. "This is all my fault! I shouldn't have let you wander out at night and run away! I'm so sorry!"

Before I can respond, she is hugging me again. "We put your computer back. You're a young man now, you should be able to make your own decisions. Besides, I'd rather you be on the computer than out there getting hurt. I'll try to stop being so overbearing on you from now on," she cries, once again squeezing me tightly with her hug.

"Mom, if you want to stop being overbearing, you could start by not giving me anaconda hugs," I chuckle.

She pulls away and squeezes my cheeks. Ugh. Does she think I'm still ten years old or something?

"They said they're going to be putting Eric in..a treatment facility. He's a very disturbed young boy. I'm going to drive you to school tomorrow so that you're safe. The teachers will also be looking out for you. Okay?" she says, kissing my forehead.

"A treatment facility? You mean like...a nuthouse? So he won't be in school anymore?" I ask.

"He won't be at school after tomorrow. He's going to be in an inpatient facility for a few months, supposedly," she explains. "I don't know if it will really help him though. He's got some pretty deep mental issues," she sighed.

"Tell me about it," I say, grabbing my backpack. "Well..thanks mom. I'm gonna go do my homework."

She smiles at me. "Okay hun, have fun."

I shake my head as I go upstairs to my room. It's nice to see my computer finally back on my desk. I spend the next few hours doing homework, while texting Stan and Kenny. After talking with Stan, Kenny finally believed my side of the story. He offered to beat up Cartman for me, but I told him that would be unnecessary. He's already going to be punished tomorrow when he gets to school.

I put my phone away and end up nodding off to sleep early again. By the time I wake up, it's just past 1AM. I really need to fix my sleep schedule.

I lay there in the dark, staring at the wall for a few minutes, thinking about how tomorrow will go. I'm afraid. He's going to be pissed off, and hell hath no fury like a Cartman scorned.

I stare at my desk. Eventually I roll out of bed, stretch my arms and head to the computer. I need to take my mind off things. Pressing the power button, I sit down and smile at the familiar sound of the fans inside. Oh how I missed that sound, even if it's only been a few days without it.

As soon as it finishes starting up, I notice that my game is missing from the desktop. I search for it but it's gone. Mom must have uninstalled it. Can't have some shitty pixels on a screen corrupting my morals, now can we? For someone who spent her youth drinking and partying in bars, my mother is a damn hypocrite.

Without a moment's hesitation, I hastily go to the website and download the installation file again. I sit there tapping my fingers on the desk as I wait for the game to install. I'm just going to be more discrete this time around. I put the game inside a hidden folder with a password, just in case my mom looks at my computer again.

With a sly smile, I load the game up and log in to the virtual universe.

My character is still where I left off - in the nightclub, surrounded by a bunch of people in tacky rave outfits. They're all dancing around with glowing sticks, glowing necklaces, and other flashy accessories. I put on my headphones and hear techno music.

I begin to search my wardrobe for something that matches the blindingly colorful neon rave dress theme. I decide on some pink boots, bright green shorts and a purple top.

I hear a notification ding to alert me that I've received an item from somebody. "CherryBombAngel has sent you glow stick. Accept or decline?"

I instantly freeze. I didn't even notice that she..ugh, _he_ was online. What is he doing awake past 1AM?? I was almost certain that I'd be able to avoid him at this hour. Doesn't he sleep? I hesitantly click "accept". Now my character is holding her own glow stick.

Before long, an IM pops up on my screen. "ur bitchy mom finally give u the puter back? that was fast."  
  
"Why are you still awake?" I type back.

CherryBombAngel: Couldn't sleep. My nose is still swollen. why r U awake?

Here we go again with the nose. He's trying to make me feel like the guiltier party here, and I'm not falling for it.

FreyaCutiePie: Already took a nap. And I'm not talking to you, so leave me alone.

CherryBombAngel: but ur talking to me right now.

FreyaCutiePie: Shut up

CherryBombAngel: see, there u go again!

FreyaCutiePie: Just fuck off

CherryBombAngel: Look Kyle..since ur here, I wanted to say something

Then just say it, you asswipe. He's always been one for theatrics. He doesn't type anything, just waits for my response.

FreyaCutiePie: ???

CherryBombAngel: I'm really sorry, for being an asshole and stuff

I let out a vicious laugh. His "sorries" have lost all meaning by now.

FreyaCutiePie: Yeah, you said that the other day too, before embarrassing me in front of my friends, you backstabbing bastard

It takes a few moments for him to reply.

CherryBombAngel: I know, I'm a bastard. and a lying attention whore, like u said..but I suddenly felt this strange feeling today, where I..actually imagined how u would feel, if I were u

FreyaCutiePie: You mean empathy?

CherryBombAngel: yes, but don't say that word, it makes me sick

I let out a sputtered laugh. Wait, why am I entertaining him? I should be ignoring him, but..I'm curious what he has to say. I see him typing more.

CherryBombAngel: I guess I deserved that punch

I can't tell if he's trying to manipulate me again, or actually being honest. By default, it's safest to just assume that everything he says is some form of manipulation.

FreyaCutiePie: I don't trust you anymore, so if you're trying to get me to forgive you, just give up.

CherryBombAngel: I understand. I don't expect u to..and sorry for trying to force u to like me back..I was being delusional.. there's nothing loveable about me. I'm a piece of shit..always have been

My mouth hangs open slightly. I can't tell if this is coming from him for real or if he's playing the pity angle. I shake my head and close the window, logging off the game.

I turn my computer off and go back to bed. Instead of falling asleep, I remain deep in thought. What if he was being honest?

I've always wondered what makes him tick. Why does he do what he does? What if his behavior is influenced by external circumstances? He doesn't have the best family. His mother never taught him morals, and he never had a father. No, that isn't an excuse. Kenny's parents are pieces of shit too, but he's one of the nicest people I know. I just have to stop worrying about him. Why do I even care??

I try to go to sleep, but my mind is restless. The thoughts won't stop nagging me. What if I'm part of the reason he is the way he is? Although he's tormented me countless times, I've also said and done some pretty terrible things to him.

I have flashbacks to when we were younger. There is one fight we had that I've never been able to forget. We were on the playground, arguing like usual. But somehow, the fight got very intense.

_He closes in on me, pushing me against the monkey bars. "You Jewish asshole! Why'd you have to get me in trouble??"_

_"Because you were throwing rocks! You think it's funny, but you almost hit a little girl. You could hit someone in the head and seriously hurt them," I argue back._

_"You used to throw rocks too, butthole!" he counters back._

_"Yeah, but I stopped after that time when Kenny got hurt! I care about people, you don't!" I defend._

_"Mehmehmehmeh!" he mocks. "Pussy kike. Now I have two weeks detention because of you."_

_"Don't call me a kike, you fat piece of shit!" I push him with force. He stumbles backwards, and then pushes me back._

_"But you are a kike. A no good kike, who's always getting me in trouble and pissing me off! Die already!" he yells._

_"Fuck you! I wish you would die from somebody throwing a rock at your fat head!" I yell back. Stan and Kenny are just standing there casually watching. They know that getting involved in our fights is futile._

_"I wish your grandparents died in the holocaust, then you wouldn't even exist!" he replies._

_I shove him really hard, causing him to fall into a pile of mud. "You know what? It doesn't even matter if you're dead or alive, because nobody loves you! Not even your crack whore mother, who probably regrets not aborting you!"_

_His face suddenly contorts, like someone who sucked on a sour lemon. He begins crying hysterically. He says nothing as he gets up from the mud and runs home._

Even though this was years ago, I've always felt bad whenever I remember it. I didn't really mean it, it was just something said out of rage. I wanted it to sting as much as his own comments stung me. I didn't expect him to actually get so emotional over it.

If he really does think of himself as an "unlovable piece of shit", I can't help but wonder if I contributed to that.

Come to think of it, I've said so many shitty things to him that I probably would never say to anyone else. He might have provoked me into saying those things, but I always used to think of myself as being the more civilized one, the one who was above petty and cruel behavior. The more moral one. That was just bullshit I liked to tell myself. I was just as petty as he was.


	13. Buttery Charm

_(Cartman's POV)_

The next morning, my mom tells me that I have to go to school. I'm tired and don't feel like rolling my ass out of bed, but she insists. Bitch. I'm practically pushed out the door when it's time to catch the bus.

I get to the bus stop and see only Stan and Kenny waiting there. Stan gives me a dirty look before looking away. Sheesh, what kind of rainbow crawled up his ass?

Kenny is unusually quiet as well. I look at him and he pretends I'm not there. It appears as though he's also ignoring me.

I clear my throat. "Hey guys."

I receive no response.

"Um, okay." I glance at them, standing there and avoiding my gaze. "Soo..where's Kyle today?" I ask, speaking a little louder this time.

They still don't respond. I clear my throat again, louder. "Ahem. You guys know where Kyle is?"

Stan finally releases a dramatic sigh. "Why do you need to know?"

I scrunch my face up at him. "I'm just wondering, dude. Calm your freakin tits."

"Why don't you just leave him alone? He's tired of your shit," Stan tells me. Okay, since when did he become Kyle's god damn bodyguard?

Kenny, with a frown, nods in silent agreement.

"Ey, fuck you Stan! He's mah boyfriend, I'll leave him alone when I want!" I shoot back sassily.

Stan gives me a look like I'm insane. "You're delusional."

I glare back at him. "Why am I delusional?? Huh??"

"I think you know exactly why, dude," and with that, he turns to whisper something to Kenny. I can't hear what he said. Then they start laughing at me. I get really pissed, but try to control my temper.

"Okay...whatever, screw you guys then!" I curse, glaring at the empty cow field ahead, not saying anything for the remainder of the wait.

What do they know? What did that ginger bastard tell them? He better not have gotten me in trouble. I try to keep my cool as I stand there.

Eventually we get on the bus. I see Butters sitting in a seat by himself in the middle row. He smiles at me and pats the empty seat next to him. I look back at him and sit down, throwing my backpack on the floor.

"Feeling any better?" he asks, rubbing his knuckles awkwardly.

I shrug. "Meh. I didn't vomit again after you left."

Butters looks worried. "Oh no, that makes it seem like I made you throw up!"

"Nah," I respond simply. I avoid his gaze, staring at the back of the seat in front of me. Fucking Stan. What makes him think he owns Kyle, and gets to speak on his behalf? I glance up, burning a glare into the back of his head, where he's sitting up the isle next to Wendy. Fuck her too, she's a bitch. And fuck Kenny, too. And Kyle. And everyone else at school. Fuck everybody!

..Except Butters, he's kewl. We sit in relative silence for the rest of the ride. It's mostly awkward as fuck. He does try to make some stupid small talk about the weather, to which I respond with some "hmms" and "uhuhs".

Reality is sinking in now, and I'm starting to regret what I did yesterday. Butters just came on to me out of nowhere. He..Buttered me up..he seduced me with his Buttery charm. OK, maybe I didn't mind it all that much, but I probably shouldn't have kissed him. My brain just did what it wanted to without thinking, like a stupid dog. Thankfully he doesn't bring it up. Maybe we can just forget about it and pretend it didn't happen. I peer through the corner of my eye and notice him staring at me. Nah, that's not gonna happen. He keeps staring at me throughout the whole ride. If I'm not mistaken, he's definitely checking me out.

When we get to school, I get off the bus and try to lose Butters trail, but he ends up following me. Ugh. We don't talk as we approach the school building.

"Well..I'll see ya later," he mutters sheepishly. He turns around and heads in his own direction before I even have a chance to respond. Whatever.

I get to my home room and sit down, yawning. I throw my backpack on the floor and lay my head in my arms on the desk, trying to catch up on some sleep.

After a minute of laying there faceplanted to the desk's surface, I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. I look up to see the teacher staring down at me judgmentally. "Eric? Mr. Mackey wanted to see you," she informs me, promptly pointing towards the door.

With a groan, I get up, grab my stuff and walk out the door. The hallways are slightly less crowded as kids have started going to their home rooms.

I pause when I see Kenny standing at his locker. I go up and poke him on the shoulder. With a slight jump, he turns around to see me, rolling his eyes.

"What is it, fatass?"

"Ey! Why are you guys being such a dick to me today?" I demand to know. "What'd that ginger asshole tell you?"

Kenny just shrugs. "He told us what you did to him. The real question is, why are _you_ being such a dick to Kyle? I think we know now why he really punched you in the face."

Aw, great. I don't know what to say. He's got me cornered. "Because..because he's an asshole, that's why!" I blurt out, despite knowing fully well that it's because _I'm_ an asshole.

"Uhuh.." Kenny nods skeptically. "Why'd you lie to us? And post that bullshit online? You even had me convinced. I thought Kyle was some kind of abusive asshole. I even felt _bad_ for you. Then I was confused when he told us his side of the story. So you made it all up, huh?" His judgmental stare is penetrating, like some kind of detective trying to coax the truth out of their suspect.

I cringe and look away. He's interrogating me, and I don't like it. Fuck, if Kyle told on me, I'm probably in trouble now. Is that why I have to go to the office? I look around the hallway for a possible escape route.

"You know," he continues, "he's never going to like you back if you keep fucking around with him like this. We're not little kids anymore, tormenting your crush won't work."

I roll my eyes. Kenny just thinks he knows the answers to everything. "I don't _like_ Kyle, asswipe. I just had a little fun tormenting him, okay? Yea yea, I'm an asshole, I know."

Kenny just shakes his head. "I hope you're happy with yourself," he says, pulling his backpack on. "Maybe you'll be happier if you try being nice to people for once," he says, before walking off to class.

What the hell was that about? Who does Kenny think he is, Dr. Phil? Giving me life advice? He sells drugs, it's not like he's some kind of moral figure. He has no right to judge me. Douche bag.

I've gotta get out of this shithole. I continue briskly walking down the hallway before I hear a voice call my name.

"Eric?" the dopey old man calls. "Uh, Eric, I'd like to speak with you for a moment, mmkay?"

Fuck!

* * *

_Double_ fuck! I sit there, arms crossed and scowling, as my mother and Mr. Mackey discuss the details of this stupid "mental health facility" that they want to send me to.

That's right. Apparently Kyle told on me, and now they think I'm insane, and they're sending me to the crazy house. How nice of my mother to plan all of this without my awareness!!

"I don't wanna go," I say plainly.

"Eric, honey, it's for the best. They'll help you deal with your issues," she tells me, patting my arm.

I yank my arm away. "I don't _have_ any _issues_!! I'm fine!"

Just then, I see the last person I want to see. If you can even call him a person. He flies in and giggles at me, before taking a piss on my mother's head.

"Ey! You little bastard, stop it!" I yell at the stupid faggy fairy.

Mr. Mackey and my mom stare at me, before looking at the spot where the tiny cupid has now vanished. God dammit.

"Hmmmkay," Mackey says, writing down something on a notepad.

I sit there, cursing internally as I wait for this torturously long meeting to finally end.

* * *

"Mom, this is not fair! I don't wanna go! I don't wannaaaa!" I scream on the drive home. "They won't even have anything good to eat! It's probably just shitty hospital food!"

"I heard that the food isn't so bad there. Plus, I'll bring you plenty of snacks. I'll bring chocolate pudding and cookies and your favorite blueberry muffins," she tries to reassure me.

"But I want to sleep in my own bed, in my own room!" I cry. "I can't sleep in some shitty room, far away from home, with no TV!"

"Well I can't currently trust you in my house, because you keep tying boys up and keeping them hostage! What did mummy tell you about doing that?? And what did I say about stealing my wigs and makeup?"

I sigh. "That I shouldn't be dressing up like a girl and tying men to my bed unless they pay me to do it."

"That's right," she nods. "Now, you're lucky the school is letting you go to a treatment facility. They could have chosen to send you to back to the juvenile detention center again instead. So either you go along with it, or you'll end up somewhere worse."

I grumble and glare out the passenger window. God dammit, I really fucked myself over this time.

We don't talk for the rest of the drive home. After we get inside the house, I run upstairs and flop down on my comfy bed, hugging it for what may be the last time I get to lay in it for awhile.

I later hug each one of my stuffed animals, crying as I say goodbye to them. I finally spend the rest of the day laying around with my cat, who I'm probably gonna miss the most.

"I love you, Mr. Kitty," I cry, gently petting his head. "Be a good boy while I'm gone! Don't die while I'm gone either! I'll miss you, sweetie pie."

"Mrrow?" he responds, purring.

"No, silly kitty," I chuckle, stroking his chin. "I don't have any pie for you."

"Mrroow?"

"No, kitty! I said you're a sweetie pie, not that I have pie!"

"Mrroowww?"

"NO KITTY, NO PIE FOR YOU!" I yell at the senile cat. I don't know how this cat is still alive.

Around 3:30 PM, someone unexpectedly shows up at the door. It's Butters, of course. Who else would it be?

"Hey, Butters," I greet, sighing.

"H-hey Eric." He looks worried. I let him inside and we sit down on the couch, taking turns stroking my kitty.

"I heard you ain't gonna be at school anymore," Butters says.

I sigh. "I guess Kyle told everyone."

"Well..no, but I heard the guys talking about it at lunch. Is it really true?" he asks, fiddling around with his knuckles.

"Is _what_ true?" I look at him suspiciously.

"Everything," he says. His voice sounds serious.

"And that would be..?" I continue, trying to tease out of him how much Kyle told.

Butters huffs and crosses his arms. "You know damn well what I'm talking about, Eric!"

Woah. Rarely do I see Butters get pissed off. I kinda like it. I put my hands up defensively. "Okay, okay, jeez. Calm down. I've taken enough shit from everyone today!"

He glares at me angrily. "Yeah, well I've taken enough shit from you my whole life, Eric! You made me pity you with your fake victim story, w-when really, you're a monster! And then..then..you tried to take advantage of me, just like you did to Kyle! I oughta know better by now!"

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Oh, so you just pitied me, huh, Butters? And you can't say I took advantage of you when you came over and jumped in my bed, asshole! You're the one who was all over me!"

I look at him and see that his face is red. Is his embarrassed? No..he's crying. Ugh. He covers his face with his hands.

I pull his hand away from his face and he slaps me.

"I w-w-w-was just..j-just jealous.." he sniffles, wiping his face.

I raise an eyebrow, silently waiting for him to elaborate.

"I w-wished you liked me a-as much as K-Kyle," he continues. I hand him a box of tissues and he wipes his nose. Jesus, he's pathetic.

"When y-you started hanging o-out with him exclusively, I s-started getting jealous. T-then you told me you guys were dating, a-and I secretly g-got depressed. A-and then I fell for your abuse s-story..w-why did you have to play with my head like that??"

Tears are still flooding out of his eyes. Before I can say anything, he grabs me by the neck and pulls me into a kiss. It feels gentle, yet possessive. My eyes are wide open, watching while his close shut. Aw, what the hell? I close my eyes too and kiss him back.

After a moment, he pulls away and catches his breath. I look at his flustered red face, reaching my hand out and wiping a few tears off his cheek with my finger. I lick the tears up off my finger and smile.

It's salty and tastes like sweet, sweet sadness. But not just _any_ sadness. These are special tears produced just for _me_.

Yummy.

* * *

"So you're leaving tomorrow?" he asks, his head leaning on my shoulder. Even though it's chilly outside, I feel..warm and fuzzy, sitting with Butters on a bench in an empty park. We got out of the house to..talk. Apparently, Butters has had a gay little crush on me for a long time now. I guess I can't say I'm surprised, but damn. I used to have a crush on him too, but the past few years I was too obsessed with Kyle to even notice Butters, let alone pursue anybody that wasn't Kyle. I swear that he put some kind of Jewish dark magic spell on me.

"Unfortunately, yes..they're forcing me to go there," I respond with a sigh. Why does this gotta happen to me _now_? I'll probably end up spending my days pumped full of drugs, with nothing to do but solve crossword puzzles. Fucking Kyle.

Butters grabs my hand and squeezes it. "Maybe it's for the best, Eric. What do you think it'll be like there?

I shrug. "They'll probably want to pump me full of drugs, make me analyze paint splatters, poke my brain with needles and hook my nipples up to an electrocuting device."

Butters raises his hand to his mouth. "O-oh my god! That sounds awful!"

"Yeah, it's gonna suck ass. Especially without a blonde cutie to keep me company.." I smile. He blushes and smiles back sheepishly.

"I'll come visit you!" he says, hugging my side. I feel a longing to stay here like this. And then, a brilliant idea flashes through my mind.

"Butters..run away with me."


	14. Running Away

_(Butters' POV)_

"Run away with me."

My eyes widen at his crazy suggestion. This week sure has been a rollercoaster for me. Not long ago, my daily life consisted of going to school, being grounded and tending to my indoor plants. Now, Eric is asking me to run away with him to God knows heck!

Why do I have to fall for the crazy ones??

"W-what..how are we gonna run away? And to where? And WHY??" I stammer out. Geez, if I ran away, I'd never feel safe coming back home again! My parents would want to kill me. But is it really a home if you're terrified of your own parents?

He grins at me mischievously. I don't like the look of that grin. "It's simple, Butters. I don't wanna spend my days in a stupid mental hospital. You don't wanna live with your abusive and controlling dad. In the movies, this would be the part where we run away from everyone, giving our shitty town the middle finger and never looking back."

What?? But this isn't a movie, this is my life! "W-well, I dunno, Eric..this is all a bit fast.."

"Life moves fast, Butters. What is there for us here in South Park, anyway?"

"Um..our friends?" I say, unsure of my answer. I don't know if I really have any close friends here, or just acquaintances who pretend to tolerate me.

"Dude, my friends hate me. People were never very nice to you, either, if I recall correctly," he says, thoughtfully tapping his chin.

I glare at him. Eric was never very nice to me. He was probably the meanest to me out of all my so called "friends". What if this is another cruel trick? I mean, look what he did to Kyle. Maybe I should reconsider getting too close to him again. But sometimes I can't help but feel like I could help him...he just needs someone who cares. Eric doesn't really have anybody who cares about him. I can't just abandon him, that would make me a shitty friend.

Still, I feel like he's prone to making impulsive decisions, his sudden idea to run away being a good example.

"What about Kyle? You were just obsessed with him a day ago, and n-now, all of a sudden you just wanna run away with me?" I look at him suspiciously.

"Psh! Screw Kahl, I'm totally over him. He's an asshole," Cartman says, his voice slightly quivering. Yeah, somethin tells me he's not really "over" him.

"If you don't want to come with me, that's fine. I'll just go by myself. Maybe I'll end up raped and dead in an alleyway, but I'll be okay," he says solemnly.

"Oh Jesus!" I look at him worriedly. "I don't want that to happen to ya! I guess..I guess I'll go with you," I blurt out, already somewhat regretting my decision the second it leaves my mouth. This is a huge leap.

He grins excitedly and pulls me into a suffocating hug. "Yes! I love you, Butters!"

Oh boy. He loves me? This is too much. "Uh...I love you too, Eric," I respond nervously.

"No, really, I mean it. You're the best friend I could ever ask for," he gushes.

Oh. I'm the best... _friend_. I look at the ground while he squeezes my back. What have I gotten myself into?

He pulls away and looks at me seriously. "We'll leave tonight at 1AM. Make sure you pack everything that you'll ever need, forever. But try to keep it light. We'll meet in the field on Pinecone road."

I take a deep, shaky breath. Am I really doing this? "Um, okay. Where are we going?"

He pauses and thinks for a moment. "Wherever fate takes us."

I raise an eyebrow. "Uh..that..doesn't really sound like a smart plan?"

"Life isn't a smart plan, Butters."

"What does that even mean??"

"I don't know! God! It sounded better in my head," he huffs. "Just meet me in the field at 1AM. I'll try to come up with a plan before then."

"Um..okay...I guess," I mutter.

"Hey," he says, grabbing my shoulders. "This is gonna be fine. We'll be fine!"

I sure hope so. But something in my head is telling me otherwise..

* * *

It's just about 1AM. After having snuck out of my house, I trudge down the icy street, carrying with me a backpack, a tote bag, and a huge duffle bag. I wanted to bring more, but I didn't wanna travel too heavy.

I shiver as the cold stings my nose. It's February, one of the coldest months around here. Eric sure did pick the worst time of the year to go running away.

Before leaving, I said goodbye to my plants, and, I guess..my former life. I secretly whispered a prayer that we'd be okay, and that my parents won't find me and ground me to death. Somehow, the thought of never talking to them again doesn't upset me as much as I would have imagined. They don't seem like they love me very much anyway.

Maybe running away won't be so bad. When I'm free, my parents won't be able to yell at me, criticize everything I do, or push me around like I'm some kinda peasant. A small smile forms on my lips.

I take a deep cold breath before approaching the field. Eric is already standing there waiting, with huge rolling luggage cases standing by his side.

I hurriedly run towards him. He smiles at me. "You ready?"

I stand there, shaking. I can't tell if it's from the cold, my nerves, or both. "I think so. Gee, I really hope we'll be alright on our own."

Cartman clasps his hands together, in a gesture of confidence. "Butters, tonight is the night we start living how we want to. Nobody can tell us what to do anymore. We'll be free. Don't you want to be free?"

I nod. I guess this is my first step towards independence. I'll be a real man now, living on my own. I turn around and look back at the street, taking in the familiar line of houses scattered along it. Well, so long South Park.

* * *

_(Cartman's POV)_

Butters and I are freezing. We had to walk a whole mile and a half to the nearest train station, hauling our heavy bags with us. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a wee bit uncertain of what we're doing. But once we get to some place to stay, we should be fine. I've got the money I made selling weed on the side, everything else I had saved over the years, plus some cash I stole from my mother. It's just about two thousand dollars. Butters also brought along the money he saved from mowing people's yards this summer, about $400. Should be enough to cover hotels for a little while. Luckily, I've got a plan for us to make more money once we get to Denver.

We sit in the cold on a bench on the platforms. It doesn't help that it's windy tonight, blowing icy gusts in our faces. Our noses are beet red and our hands feel like icicles. Maybe this wasn't the smartest plan after all. Well, it's not _my_ fault I had to run away. It's Kyle's fault. He gets to be warm and cozy in his rich daddy's house, meanwhile I'm sitting out here freezing my fat ass off, just to avoid being institutionalized. Hmmph. It's not even like I'm really crazy!

" _Yes you are,_ " an unwelcome voice intrudes my thoughts.

" _Shut up!_ " I warn quietly in my head.

" _Nice boy toy you got there, teehee! What's wrong, you don't love me anymore?_ " Cupid Me pouts.

" _Fuck off you little twerp, I hate you!_ " I internally mutter back. I imagine him turning into an icicle. He freezes solid, cracks and evaporates into the air. I smile quietly to myself at the victory.

I look over at Butters, jagged frozen puffs of breath coming out of his mouth. Reluctantly, I scoot closer, until I'm scooted up against him. "Um, I know this is awkward and stuff, but if we share heat we'll stay warmer."

He nods and smiles nervously. I grab his thinly gloved hands and start rubbing my own gloved hands over them, creating friction and heat. I feel a tingling sensation in my cold hands as they warm up a little. Butters leans in and plants a cold kiss on my cheek. "Gee, thanks, my hands feel a lil warmer now!"

Even though it's freezing out, I feel my cheek burn. I notice some old guy on the bench on the other side of the platform staring at us with a judging look. I glare back at him. Asshole.

I bring out my cellphone and check the time. 1:57 AM. Our train should get here at 2:00 AM.

"It feels like we're in Siberia," Butters says with a shaky voice.

"Oh stop being such a wimp, Butters," I mutter. "Siberia would be like, 10 times colder than this."

"Ah, I wonder what that would feel like. How would we survive?"

I think for a moment. "I doubt both of us would survive. You'd probably die first, since you have less fat. Then, out of sheer desperation and survival instinct, I'd have to eat your flesh and burn the rest of your remains for extra heat."

He looks both disgusted and mortified. "Oh Jesus! Why would you eat me??"

"Like I said, it's just survival. It's not like I'd _want_ to chew on your scrawny dead body. There wouldn't even be any BBQ sauce or anything, so you'd probably taste super gross."

"Ew! I can't believe you'd think about that." Butters makes a disgusted face.

I roll my eyes. "Oh my god Butters, you take things too literally. Lighten up a little."

He just shakes his head and stares down the platform. Suddenly I hear the sound of a train coming. I look up and see it pulling in. It's our train. Fucking finally!

It slowly screeches a stop on our platform. I grab Butters by the hand like he's a little kid as we get up and wait for the doors to slide open. We sit down in a middle row. There's literally nobody else in our cabin. Not like many people travel at fucking 2AM.

"Gee, looks like we're all alone in here," Butters says, peering around at all the empty seats.

"You know what _that_ means," I wiggle my eyebrows flirtatiously.

He grins embarrassingly and smacks me in the shoulder.

"What? I was just going to say that it means nobody travels at 2AM."

"Yeah, except for bad folks like us," he chuckles.

"Psh, Butters, you're so innocent, you wouldn't know bad if it was written on your forehead."

He looks insulted. "Bull crap! I can be bad!"

"No you can't. You can't even say the word bullshit, you say bullcrap. Fucking goodie two shoes," I tease.

"Well, uh, just because I don't talk like one, doesn't mean I'm not a bad boy!" he argues.

I let out a loud laugh. "Let's get one thing clear, I'm the bad boy out of us two. You're like, the innocent boy next door, with the overly strict father who hates me for corrupting his son."

His demeanor softens as he looks down at the floor sadly. "My dad doesn't just hate you, he hates _everyone_ , including me."

Just then, the train begins pulling out of the station. "Yea, well, fuck your dad," I reply. "Not literally though. Ew."

"He can be quite..overbearing, that's for sure," Butters says.

"Just say it, dude. Your parents are assholes. Even bigger assholes than Kahl, or Kahl's mom." I feel a pit in my stomach just from mentioning the dreaded ginger's name.

Butters lets out a sigh. "I don't know why you're so stuck on Kyle."

"I'm not!" I yell defensively. Maybe a little too loudly. Nobody's in here with us though, so fuck it.

"Uhuh, sure." Butters gives me a knowing look.

I glare back at him. "What? I hate Kahl."

"You pretend like you hate him, but it's so obvious that yer like, in love with him or somethin," Butters says. I think he's jealous.

I cross my arms defensively. "I am not. Gross! Why would I love him?? I just love humiliating him, because he deserves it."

Butters rolls his eyes. "But you _kissed_ him. Weren't you humiliating _yourself_ as well when you did that?"

Oh god. He's acting like a possessive girlfriend, and we're not even officially dating. "Look, I know you're totally jealous of Kahl and all, but you're really overestimating his importance. He's just a stupid Jew, I don't care about him anymore. I want to put the past behind me now."

Butters sighs and leans his head on my shoulder. "Me too," he says, sounding tired.

I'm tired too. I yawn, not having the energy to continue this conversation. I lean my head against the clanking window and watch as we travel past swaths of dark trees. Pretty soon we'll be in Denver, officially gone from South Park.

In just a few hours, people will realize we're missing. We're going to have to keep a low profile until we're out of the state. I still haven't decided where we'll go.

Wherever fate takes us, right?

* * *

I was almost ready to fall asleep when a ticket lady comes by to collect our tickets. "You guys look a little young to be traveling on your own at this hour," she says. "Where ya headed?"

"Denver," I respond.

"Ah. Be safe out there. There's some shady people lurking around at these hours," she warns as she opens the door and walks into the next cabin.

Butters looks at me with a frightened look on his face. "Oh boy, we gotta be careful!"

"Psh, we'll be fine," I reply. "We just need to steer clear of big scary black men in hoodies. They might want to steal our shit and rape us."

"Oh Jesus," Butters bites his nails.

"Keep a look out for any Jews wandering around too, I heard they lurk around at night because they're part vampires. Don't approach any Mexicans either."

Butters nods like an idiot. Eventually our stop approaches. We get off and walk through the grungy looking train station, looking for an exit. Along the way, we see a few homeless people sleeping against the walls. Normally I'd make an asshole joke, but it suddenly sinks in that _we're_ homeless now too.

We finally find an exit and walk outside, hauling our heavy bags with us. The streets are just barely lit and there aren't many people around. We stick out like targets, hauling all this luggage around the streets in the middle of the night.

We both pause for a moment to catch our breath. "Okay, I have the address of a nearby hotel on my phone. Our goal is to get there while avoiding being mugged, raped and stabbed. Ready?"

Butters looks at me, wide eyed. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"OK! 1, 2, 3, _go_!"

And with that, we take off as fast as we can, crazily running down the street with our luggage rolling behind us. We're in such a frenzy that I don't realize we make the wrong turn down the wrong street. It's a darkly lit street and by the time we're halfway down it, I realize our mistake.

"Oh, shit. Wrong street. Turn around!" I yell quietly. "Hurry! There might be a serial killer hiding behind a dumpster!"

"Ahh!" Butters yells. We frantically run back down the street in the opposite direction. When we get back to the end of the street we pause for a moment to catch our breaths again.

Out of nowhere, a large man approaches us. "Spare some change?" he asks.

"AHHH!" Butters and I scream and take off down the street again. We keep running and running until we reach the hotel building, several blocks away. I've never ran so much in my life. By then, I feel like I might collapse.

'Pink Flamingo Inn', the neon sign on the building reads. It was one of the cheapest places I could find.

"Huh. Doesn't really look like a pink flamingo," Butters remarks. It's an old run down looking building. I shrug and open the door. The inside lobby doesn't look much nicer either. We clumsily and tiredly haul our luggage through the doors, the lady at the front desk giving us a judgmental stare as we slam our bags into the door repeatedly, attempting to drag them through.

When we get our bags and our asses through the door, I instruct Butters to sit down on a dirty looking pink lobby chair as I approach the front desk. "One of your cheapest available rooms please."

She looks at me, then at Butters, then back at me. "How old are you?"

"Uh, 18," I respond, shooting a charming smile.

"I'mma need to see an ID," she says, smacking a piece of gum.

I rummage through my bag for several seconds before pulling out my fake ID. Enrique Hernandez, 18 years old, from Colorado, it reads. I hand it to her with a smile.

She takes a look at it, then looks back at me suspiciously. "Okay, whatever. We got one room for $40. You want it?"

"Oh, yes please." I rummage through my bag again and pull out two twenty dollar bills. I hand them to her and she puts them in the till, then fishes out a key from the drawer.

"Room 15B. You gotta be out by 10AM," she says, pointing down the hallway and handing me the key.

10AM? What bullshit. I nod to Butters and we head down the hallway she pointed towards. The walls are decorated with cheesy tacky flamingo wallpaper. How bizarre to theme an inn after a tropical bird in a snowy city.

We get to our room and I slide the key in the door. I open the door and look around. The whole room is pink. The walls are pink. The carpet is pink. The bed is pink. My immediate first impression is the tiny ass bed we got. It's only a full size. I'm used to sleeping in at least a queen sized bed, and that's by _myself_. For fourty bucks, this seems like a rip off.

"Looks like we got a room made for a chick," I sigh. "With a chick sized bed to match. Just my luck."

I throw my bags down and crack my back. I definitely regret bringing so much stuff with me now.

Butters looks guilty for no reason. "Do you want me to just sleep on the floor?"

I roll my eyes. "No, it's fine." I know I can be an asshole, but I'm not gonna make him sleep on the dirty floor after we just walked two miles in the cold, hauling our shit along the way.

I guess I might have a little bit of a soul after all.

"I'm almost ready to pass out, so I'm just gonna head to bed," I mutter, flopping down on the bed. I get under the covers and immediately close my eyes.

"Okay, I'm just gonna pee!" Butters says, like he's super excited to take a piss. Fuckin weirdo.

I fall asleep fast, to the sound of tinkling coming from the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being so so slow with this story! It's taken quite a bit of a tangent into a different plot than what I originally intended, and I'm still not sure where I'm going with it.
> 
> If you have any suggestions, requests, or feedback feel free to leave a comment! Thanks for reading this crazy story :D


	15. Flamingo Kicking Rebels

_(Cartman's POV)_

It takes a moment for my sleepy eyes to adjust to my surroundings. The first thing I see is the little bit of light peeking out from under the blinds, beaming into the pink room. Wait..pink? Where the hell am I? This doesn't look like my bedroom. It takes my brain a moment to recall what happened last night.

Oh, right. I ran away from home. And now I'm in some stupid ass flamingo hotel. Well, fuck me.

I almost forgot that I dragged Butters along with me. I glance sideways to see him still asleep, squished up against me in this bed designed for midgets. My back is feeling stiff and I barely have room to roll over. I'm beginning to wonder if it was even worth bringing him along. I just wanted an obedient sidekick, not more luggage to carry around. So far, running away doesn't feel as freeing as I thought it would.

I crane my head sideways and look at the bedside table. The time on the alarm clock reads 8:52 AM.

This means we've only got an hour to get out of here, according to the bitch from the front desk. But I'm too damn tired to get up yet. I take a deep yawn and flop my head back down on the pillow. Ah, screw it. I'm going back to sleep.

* * *

_BZZZZZZ!_

I'm shaken awake by what sounds at first like a horde of angry bees buzzing in my ears. I open my eyes to see a lady vacuuming the floor in our room. What the fuck? I look at the clock. 10:39AM. Fucking seriously?

"Sorry!" she shouts over the vacuum, pointing at the door. I assume this means "get out".

I let out a loud sigh. Fucking assholes! I'm never coming back here again. Not that I would want to!

I walk around the bed to violently shake Butters awake. How the hell can he sleep through this?

His eyelids flutter open and he jumps. "Aghh! Wh-what's goin on??"

"Get up, asshole! We have to leave!" I shout over the vacuum, before rolling out of bed. In a half sleepy stupor, I tip toe over the vacuum wire and make sure our luggage is still intact. That shady cleaning bitch could have stolen something while we were asleep. I pull my coat on, zip it up and walk over to shove Butters out of bed. He falls onto the floor with an "oof".

"Ow! What the hell was that for??" he complains.

"Come on! We're leaving," I inform him, slipping my boots on.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming! Jeez," he mutters. "Can't even get no damn sleep."

"Don't blame me for this hotel's stupid policies!" I yell back. The vacuum lady shoots me a nasty look. With a groan, Butters rubs his eyes and shoves his feet into his sneakers, before putting his jacket on. Then we grab our stuff and tail it down the hallway. God damn did we overpack. It's going to be a pain in the ass to keep hauling this shit around every day. On the way out to the lobby, I nod towards the small "dining area", where there is a counter full of shitty complimentary breakfast foods. Thankfully, the room is empty.

We walk in and I whisper to Butters, "Grab everything you can!"

He smiles sneakily and starts grabbing the apples from the fruit basket. I find a nearby plastic grocery bag and we start throwing stuff into it. I take at least a dozen of their crappy little wrapped package pastries. Butters hurriedly throws the remaining bananas from the fruit basket into the bag.

We're lucky that they have a bunch of water bottles sitting out too. "Let's take a bunch of these," I whisper, throwing ten of them into my luggage. Butters takes six of them.

But when I throw the backpack over my shoulder I realize how heavy it is with all the bottles. "Aw, fuck it," I mutter, throwing six of them back onto the counter.

"Y-yeah, we already packed heavy, we don't need more crap to carry," Butters sighs, putting back three as well.

"Alright, let's get outta this stupid shit hole then."

We go back into the lobby and nobody is there at the front desk. I do notice that there is a security camera watching us. I give it the middle finger before kicking over one of the cheap plastic flamingo decorations standing next to the desk.

"Seeya later assholes!" I curse.

"Hehe, yeah! Assholes!" Butters repeats, grinning deviously. He giggles and kicks the already fallen flamingo a second time for good measure. "Ooh, we're so bad!"

I can't help but let out a sputtered laugh at his stupidity. We quickly haul our shit out the door and step into the city's morning light. The air is chilly, as is to be expected in winter. The streets look a little less intimidating in the daylight, but we're still going to have to keep our guards up for predators.

"So, how does your first day of freedom feel, Butters?" I ask with a deep yawn. Yes, I'm still tired as shit.

My yawn must be contagious, because he yawns as well. "Well.. it feels.. pretty exciting and scary at the same time...I can't imagine what my parents are thinking. They've probably realized I'm missing by now."

Hmm. He has a point. They'll probably end up searching for us soon. Oh shit. Suddenly, I remember something very important that we forgot to do. "Dude! They might try to track us with our cellphones. We need to remove the batteries in them."

"Aww, darn it!" he mutters. We walk down the block and sit down on an empty bench. We spend the next minute taking out the batteries.

"We won't be able to use these anymore," I tell him.

"But how are we gonna check the time and stuff?" he asks.

I pull something out of my backpack and strap it onto my wrist. "It's this ancient thing called a watch," I say, pointing to the digital watch on my wrist.

"But what if we need to make a call or something?"

I sigh. "Then we borrow someone else's, find a rare pay phone booth, or get one of those prepaid phones. Duh."

"Oh, alright." Butters fiddles with his fingers. "Jeez it's cold out. Hey, are you hungry?"

My stomach grumbles at just the right time, as if it's talking back to him. "As a matter of fact, I am."

He laughs. "Should we go get something to eat?"

"I mean, McDonalds sounds good right now, but dude, we're homeless. We can't afford that fancy shit," I shrug. "We need to save every penny we have to avoid sleeping on the streets."

Butters looks down at the ground sadly. "Aw, darn it."

I zip open my backpack. "Don't get depressed. We do have some fruit and some shitty honey buns."

* * *

_(Kyle's POV)_

It's the fourth period of the day, and I'm feeling pretty good. I haven't seen Cartman at all, so clearly they really did take him out of school. Part of me feels guilty, but the other part is just happy to not have to deal with his bullshit anymore. Maybe he'll get some help while he's gone, although I doubt it. I'm definitely going to make the most of the time he's away at that mental institution. I've decided to start focusing on school again. No more wasting my life on video games. No more bullshit!

The rumors he started about me are still going. Some people still think I was dating Cartman and that I'm a violent asshole. Alright, maybe I am a _bit_ violent, but he totally pushed me over the edge.

I'm sitting in class jotting down notes when Mr. Mackey opens the door and walks in. He looks directly at me. "Kyle? May I see you for a sec?"

I try not to show my annoyance as I stand up, gather my stuff and leave the classroom. After shutting the door, I begin following Mackey back to his office. "What's the problem, Mr. Mackey?"

"We just needed to talk to you for a minute, mmkay?" he nods. "It's about Eric."

Great. With a shrug, I continue following him. When we reach his office, I see Cartman's mom sitting in one of the chairs. Mr. Mackey instructs me to sit down in the other chair.

"Hello, Mrs. Cartman," I greet nervously. I haven't talked to her at all since the incident. Or before it. In fact, it's probably been months since I've seen her.

We're not exactly on the best terms. I'm still mad at her for the situation that happened two years ago, let alone the most recent incident. How could she have not known that her son was keeping someone captive in her basement for a whole week??

"Hi, Kyle," she replies, sounding exhausted and weak. "I'm so sorry that this happened...again."

I look at her oddly. "Um..it's okay, it's not exactly your fault..." I say. Even though it kinda is.

"No, it's definitely my fault! I should have been at home, watching Eric! I'm such a terrible mother!" She begins bawling. Mr. Mackey hands her a tissue. "I just don't know why he is the way he is!"

I want to say, ' _Are you fucking serious?_ ', but I refrain myself. Instead, I remain silent.

Mr. Mackey clears his throat. "Well, uh, Kyle, we brought you here because Eric, mmkay, apparently went missing. His mother said he wasn't in the house when she woke up, mmkay, and we can't figure out where he's gone. Do you have any idea where he may have gone?"

My eyes widen slightly, although to be honest I'm not really surprised. "Nope, I have no idea. Wasn't he supposed to go to..you know?"

"Yes, he was supposed to go to a treatment facility today, which we think may have something to do with his sudden disappearance," Mackey replies.

I roll my eyes. "I'm almost certain that it does."

"Mmkay..did he tell you he was planning on running away or anything like that?"

"No, but knowing him, that would be something he'd do," I explain. "I mean, just to avoid going to the mental hospital."

"Mmkay. That does seem like something Eric would do. Well, thank you Kyle. You can go back to your class now, mmkay?"

"Okay," I respond, getting up to leave.

I hear Liane blowing her nose as I exit the room.

As I walk down the hall, I mull over the possibilities in my head. Is he hiding in the park? Nah, it'd probably be too cold. The most likely option is that he's hiding at someone's house. Maybe Kenny's? Or he could be at Heidi's house. She seemed to have fallen for his stupid story, and wouldn't believe my side of it. I bet she's letting him hide in her closet because she pities him.

You know what? It doesn't matter. I don't need to worry about him. I just wanna get through the school day focused.

With a deep sigh, I head back towards the classroom.

* * *

_(Butters' POV)_

So far, running away ain't been the awesome adventure I'd thought it'd be. It's bitter cold outside, and we were out there for about four hours before we found another cheap hotel to stay in. Now it's almost evening, and neither of us wanna go back outside, so we're just staying in the hotel room until we get kicked out tomorrow morning.

While we were outside, Eric decided that we should try asking strangers for change. So we tried doing that for about an hour, and made a few dollars. Then some nice guy bought us sandwiches. Not too bad for our first day being homeless.

Now I'm just sittin on the bed, watching the news and munching on a chocolate bar. There's nothing better to do. Eric's been using his laptop. He says the hotel's wifi is super slow though.

He's been a real asshole to me today, but I excuse his behavior because he must be pretty stressed. He's so used to living with his mom and having whatever he wants. It must be pretty difficult to suddenly adjust to a new life of self dependence.

I watch him typing away on his laptop. He's wearing these cute lil teddy bear pajamas. I couldn't help but notice them. I'm glad he brought those along with him. It reminds me of my lucky bear that I tucked away into my suitcase. I scoot off the bed and rummage through my suitcase to find it. Aha. I pull it out and smile.

Call me cheesy for being seventeen and still having a teddy bear, but I like to hold on to it for good luck. I call him...Mr. Teddy.

I walk over to the desk Eric is sitting at and sit the bear next to his laptop.

"What the hell is this?" he asks, looking annoyed that I interrupted him.

"His name is Mr. Teddy," I respond with a grin.

"How creative," he replies sarcastically, going back to typing something.

"Whatcha lookin at?" I ask.

He sighs. "Maps and stuff. Trying to figure out where stuff is in Denver."

"Ooh. Hey, your pajamas match Mr. Teddy, did you notice?" I ask.

He pauses, looks down at his pajamas and then at me. "A very keen observation, Butters."

"Heh, yeah. You look cute in them pajamas."

He pauses and looks at me. Oh my gosh, I feel so embarrassed. Was that a stupid thing to say? He's probably gonna laugh at me now for being stupid.

Instead, he says something that totally shocks me. "Butters, if you're trying to rape me, I swear I will call the cops. Don't think you can just take advantage of me because I'm a virgin."

My mouth drops. "Wh-what?? Who said anything about raping?!"

"Don't play stupid! You were giving me the rapey eyes. I swear to god, if you try to rape me in my sleep-"

"Woah!" I cut him off. "I ain't gonna rape nobody! Who do you think I am?? All I said was yer pajamas are cute!"

"Which means 'I want to plunder your asshole' in fag language, I'm pretty sure," he replies, looking at me suspiciously.

I look at him like he's insane. "I-I-I don't even know what to say to that, Eric." I'm a lil bit offended by him calling me a 'fag'. I got over my Harley Davidson phase years ago.

His serious expression suddenly crumbles into spontaneous laughter. He begins pounding the desk in amusement. "Oh my god! The look on your face was priceless!"

I scowl at him. "What??"

"I was just messing with you," he replies, laughing even more.

I pick up my teddy bear and throw it at his face as hard as I can. It doesn't have the intended blunt force though, seeing how it's a teddy bear and all. Still, it gets my frustration across.

"With all your damn sarcasm and jokes, I can never tell when you're being serious!"

"Psh, I'm never serious," he immediately replies.

I look at him suspiciously. "So you weren't serious about running away?"

He looks like I caught him there. "Okay, maybe I was serious about that. I guess. Kind of. I mean, I dunno," he shrugs.

"What?! I thought we ran away because you were ready to start a new life!"

He looks at me like _I'm_ the one being irrational. "Yeah, I mean, whatever. It kind of sucks being homeless though. I miss my own bed, and my mom making me food and stuff."

I roll my eyes. "You said your mom's a bitch and you'll never miss her. Already changed your mind, huh?"

He scowls at me. "No! She's still a bitch, I just miss her food, okay?!"

" _Uhuh_ ," I nod with a grin. "I think you miss your mommy."

"Butters, just shut the fuck up! Gawd! I brought you with me cause I thought you would help me, not get on my nerves," he complains, leaning back in his wooden chair.

Geez, he's so sensitive. "Eric, I was just joking - you know, like what you do all the time," I tease.

He doesn't find it funny though. "Ugh, whatever. Don't talk to me. I'm going to bed."

He dramatically storms toward the bed, jumps into it and turns the light off.

"Aw, come on, Eric," I mutter, standing in the TV's blue illumination.

"Shut up," he cuts me off. "And you shut up too, cupid me!"

"Wh-who's cupid me?" I raise an eyebrow. He's got the bed cover pulled over his head like a petulant child.

"Nothing, Butters. Just leave me alone, kay?"

I sigh and turn the TV off, then get in the other side of the bed. Yes, we have to share it, cuz getting a room with two beds would have cost an extra fifty dollars, and we don't have that kind of money to waste. I'm beginning to wonder if this little running away adventure was a stupid mistake.

"Eric, are you sure this is really what you wanted?" I ask, laying on my back and twiddling my thumbs.

He groans. "Just leave me alone."

"For how long?" I ask.

"Hmm..how about forever?" he replies, still facing away from me.

I take a moment to gather up my bravery and ask the next question. "...Does this mean we're breaking up?"

I hold my breath waiting for his response.

"We were never together, asshole," he replies.

I feel a sinking feeling in my chest. "But..you kissed me!"

"So what?" he responds in a defensive tone.

I feel my eyes getting tingly. I roll over so I am facing the wall. "S-so it didn't mean anything to you?"

"To be honest, no, not really. I just never really kissed a guy before and I wanted to try it."

I stay silent after that. My eyes feel a lil wet. Must be allergies. It sure is stuffy in this room.

After a moment I hear him sigh and move to roll onto his back. "But  
if you wanna be like, boyfriends or whatever, I guess that's kewl."

Wait, did I hear that right? I can't help but smile a stupid grin before rolling over to face him. It's dark so I can't exactly make out his expression. I lean in and plant a big kiss on his cheek.


	16. Stuck in a Dumpster

_(Kyle's POV)_

It's now been one whole week since Cartman went missing, and they still haven't found him yet. They said Butters is missing too. Lots of people (including myself, to my own annoyance) have been out searching the area for any traces of them, with no luck. The police are now searching the neighboring towns. To be honest, I'm more worried for Butters than Cartman. I hope fatass didn't drag him into another dangerous stunt. That's usually what happens with those two.

As pissed off as I am at Cartman, I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss him already. I kinda wish we could to back to how things were a month ago, when we would play games all night. Life was simple then. We had good times. Why'd he have to screw that up and make everything so weird? I guess he was weird all along and I just ignored that part of him.

He isn't supposed to have a crush on me. He's supposed to be my frenemy. That's how it's always been, and that's how I like it. Fuck him for ruining that.

One morning at school, I spot Heidi sitting on the steps inside the entrance and decide to approach her. Maybe she'll know something. She looks at me suspiciously as I sit down.

"Hey, Heidi," I greet.

"What do you want?" she hisses.

I recoil a bit. "Um, I just wanted to ask if you knew anything about Cartman's disappearance," I ask.

"I should ask you the same," she says, giving me that suspicious eye again.

"I have no idea where he is," I inform her. "I thought maybe he talked to you before he went missing, or something," I say, ignoring the look she's giving me. "Like, maybe he gave some clue where he went?"

"Kyle, I haven't talked to him in months. I didn't even know you guys were...a thing, until recently. Why don't _you_ know where he is? He's _your_ boyfriend," she accuses.

Oh, god dammit, not this again. "I already told you, we aren't boyfriends! Why do you people keep believing Cartman's stories? He's full of shit!" I seethe.

"Well, it _seems_ believable. I would see you guys together at school all the time. And Sally said you two would always sit together on the bus."

"So what? How does that imply anything??" I ask, frustrated. I don't even know why I care about people's stupid rumors. This town is full of idiots who love drama and gossip.

"Look, Kyle, I'm really worried about Eric. Everyone saw that insta pic of his beat up face, and now he's just suddenly gone missing. If you did something to him, I swear-"

"Ugh, just stop! You don't know the real story," I cut her off, gritting my teeth. I'm trying really hard not to lose my temper here with these accusations.

"See? You look super angry right now. You scare me, Kyle," she says, warily scooting away from me. "Just stay away from me."

I let out a frustrated sigh, stand up and walk away. Great, now I'm not only an abusive gay boyfriend, but a suspected murderer on top of that. I pull up my backpack and walk to homeroom.

* * *

At lunch, I sit down with Stan and Kenny. Our table feels unusual without Cartman or Butters here, annoying as they both might be. It's starting to sink in now that something might actually really be wrong. I feel an uncomfortable heaviness in my chest.

"Guys, do you think they're OK?" I hesitantly ask.

Kenny appears deep in thought, as he munches on his french fries. "I don't know, dude."

Stan just shrugs. "They could be anywhere right now."

I look down at the table. I haven't had much of an appetite lately. "I feel like this is all my fault."

Stan simply pats me on the back. "Stop feeling guilty about it. _You're_ the victim here, not him."

"Yeah, well, now Butters is the victim. I hope he's alright," I say, swallowing nervously.

"He's almost an adult, he should be responsible for making his own decisions. It's not our fault he makes stupid ones," Kenny says.

"He's just, uh, really naive. Cartman always takes advantage of that. I bet he convinced him to go somewhere with him. I have no idea where they are, but I'm going to find out somehow," I say, determined yet clueless.

"Good luck with that," Kenny nods, continuing his fry munching.

I look at my friends. They all seem pretty apathetic towards this situation. How is it that I'm the only one concerned?? Cartman and Butters are missing, and they might even be dead. This is serious!

 _I'm_ the one who should be the most apathetic to the fact that Cartman's gone missing. But that doesn't mean I wanted him to be in trouble. I thought he would just go to the mental institution and get help. Now I feel obligated to go rescue both of them. God, they're so stupid.

* * *

_(Cartman's POV)_

Well, this week has been ridiculously crazy. If someone were to tell me a month ago that I was going to run away from home with Butters, who is now my boyfriend, I'd think they were batshit insane.

Yet this is my life now. It's all Kyle's fault. Okay, I'm trying not to think about Kyle anymore, but it's impossible to stop. I keep having these weird dreams with him in them. In the most recent dream, I came back to our hotel room and saw Kyle sitting on my bed. He was giving me this seductive look. But when I walked towards him, he melted and turned into an ice cream sundae with fudge sauce. So then I ate him. Weird, right?

Anyway, fuck Kyle. I've got a new boyfriend, Butters. That might sound totally lame, but Butters is kind of cute. Although he looks young for his age. I feel kinda weird kissing him because I feel like a freakin pedo, even though we're about the same age. I really prefer more mature looking men. Who are strong, defiant, with curly red hair..ugh, dammit. I said I was going to forget about that asshole. I shake my head.

Tonight marks our first week of running away. To be honest, it's kinda sucked ass so far. Aside from occasional KFC and other fast food meals, we haven't had a decent warm meal since we left home. I guess I really took my mum's home cooked meals for granted while living with her.

Cupid Me hasn't been bothering me as much lately. I think he knows that I'm super busy, and don't have the mental energy to entertain his bullshit. Good grief, I don't miss that asshole at all.

The pile of cash we brought with us is already beginning to dwindle away. Hotels in the city ain't cheap, which is why tonight we're going to try out my plan to get some money together.

It's a dangerous and desperate plan, but we're in a desperate situation, so it'll have to do.

What is the plan exactly? Well, lately I've been messaging some creeps I found on the dark web. Some of them are willing to pay premium price for fresh teenage meat. I decided that Butters is going to be the bait, since he looks younger than me. I'm going to pretend to be his pimp. Except, when we get there, I'm going to act like we're working undercover for the cops, scare them off, and then we'll run away with their money.

It sounds crazy, but it might work. We just need the asshole to pay us upfront, and then we'll dodge outta there like bandits. Easy money.

I stare at the most recent message on my laptop. Some creep nicknamed HugeBoner43 is interested, and he's willing to pay us $2000. Which is a _lot_. That's almost as much as we brought with us. But he says he wants me to send a picture of Butters first.

Butters is in on the plan, too. I already explained everything to him. He's currently leaning over my chair and looking at the laptop. I hear him make a disgusted sound as he reads the message.

"He..he wants to do _what_??" Butters gasps. His poor innocent eyes can't handle the contents of this freak's message.

"Dude, relax, you won't actually have to do any of that shit. We're just gonna get the money and run," I assure him, although there is a nervous knot in my stomach. I really have no idea how this is going to go, since I've never tried it before. Guess you can't know until you try.

I sigh and get up from the chair. "Alright bae, we need to take a picture of you real quick to send to this weirdo."

Butters looks at me nervously. "Um..I can keep my clothes on, right?"

I almost choke as I let out a sputtered laugh. "Duh. We're not fucking sending him nudes. But um, I guess you should try to look sexy or something. I dunno. How does a gay prostitute pose for their resume shots?"

Butters shrugs and leans stiffly against the wall, stretching his arms out like he's having a stroke. "Like this?"

I laugh hysterically at his awkward pose. "No. You look like you're having a heart attack."

He turns around and leans his back against the wall, crossing his arms.

"Now you look like a shy wallflower. I dunno, maybe this asshole's into that kinda thing," I say, framing him with my fingers.

I'm about to get my cellphone out to take a picture, before I remember that we can't use our phones anymore. Gotta stay low. Shit. I guess we'll have to use my laptop's web cam then.

"Alright, forget the wall pose. Just come over here and stand in front of the laptop camera."

Butters does as I tell him. He looks at himself on the screen. "Err, what now?"

"I don't know, try to look young and innocent or something. This weirdo's obviously into jail bait," I sigh.

Butters decides to bite his finger and smile "innocently" at the camera. He looks so wrong doing that. I press a button and take a picture.

I look at the picture and save it. I hate having to share _my_ boyfriend with some freak. But we don't have time to waste, so I sit down and send the snapshot.

Minutes later, the guy replies with an address to meet him at. Bam. All we gotta do now is show up, get the money and run.

I jot down the address and then look up a bus schedule that will take us there. He wants us to meet at some random street corner. We'll have have to take a bus ride and then walk two blocks to get there.

After a few minutes we're finally ready to head out. "Ready babe?" I ask Butters, giving him a serious glance over. Cause this is serious business. I'm seriously. Two thousand dollars business.

He shrugs and nods back at me nervously. "I guess so."

I'm excited and scared at the same time. I give Butters a peck on the lips before we step out of our hotel room and lock the door. We take the elevator down and head out into the streets. Then we walk to the bus stop and stand there waiting.

I'm freezing my balls off out here.

"What if we die?" Butters suddenly asks, sounding frightened.

"Dude. We're not gonna die," I assure him with false confidence.

"Y-ya never know, Eric. Weird people do weird things," he says, releasing a huff of frozen air, his hands shoved into his coat pockets.

"I think this creep mostly just wants to do weird things to your asshole, Butters. But we won't let that happen. If he tries anything, I'll kick him in the nuts," I promise.

"Gee Eric, you're the best," Butters replies, unsarcastically. God, he's an idiot. He comes closer to me and leans his head on my shoulder. I roll my eyes. The bus approaches shortly after. We get on and put our money into the machine.

We sit down near the front and Butters scoots next to me, leaning his head on me again. Some people look at us weirdly, a common occurrence now whenever we're together, but I don't really give a fuck. If they don't approve they can kiss my big ass.

After about fifteen minutes we get to our stop. I nudge Butters off me and stand up. We make our way off the bus and into the dark street. There's nobody else outside around here. God dammit, why does this have to be like something straight from a scary movie?

Butters clings to my arm. I can hear him breathing shakily. "Oh Jesus..this is scary," he says.

"No shit, Butters. But if you want to make money, you gotta take risks," I reply, although I'm no more confident than he is at this point. I try to shake off my nerves and just keep walking towards the street we're supposed to meet this guy at.

We keep walking and I spot a bar down the other street that appears to be open. "Okay, after we run off, we're going to head straight for that bar. Got it?" I whisper.

He nods. We keep walking until we see the street corner. We slow down as we spot a guy in sunglasses, a dark coat and pants standing there, leaning against a wire fence.

I try to look confident as I stroll over, with Butters still clinging to me. Eventually we approach the man and he nods at us.

"HugeBoner43?" I ask.

He smiles and nods again. He gazes at Butters, sizing him up. "So..he's fourteen, eh?"

"Um, yeah," I gulp.

"Sweet. You guys wanna go to my place? Or is it just this pretty young thing coming with me tonight?" he says, smiling at Butters like a predator.

Butters looks simultaneously offended and frightened. I clear my throat. "Uh, you can take him, but you gotta pay me first," I say, trying to sound as assertive as possible.

The guy nods. "Sounds good," he says. "Two thousand right?"

"Yes," I nod.

"Alright, let me just get out my wallet.." He begins shuffling through his coat pocket.

I get excited as I smile widely and nudge Butters. I can't believe it. This idiot is actually going to pay us!

He pulls something out of his coat pocket, but it's not a wallet. It's a gun. "Freeze! Denver police!" he shouts, aiming the gun at us.

Oh shit. Fuck! We're definitely frozen with fear at that point. He pulls out a walkey talkie with his free hand and says something into it. I'm too shocked to even pay attention. Before we know it, police cars are pulling up around us with flashing lights and sirens.

With my adrenaline pumping, I do something totally stupid. Something that, in hindsight, may not have been the most intelligent move. I kick the officer right in the nuts, as hard as I can. He drops his gun and clutches his crotch in pain. I grab Butters by the arm and we start running as fast as we can. Butters screams as we hear a gun being shot at us. We dodge around the corner of a building and keep running, not even looking back. The police cars are following us. We spot a narrow alley way ahead, turn down it and keep running. The cars won't be able to fit through.

I'm huffing and my chest hurts from running so fast. "Butters.." I pant. "Can't...keep..running!" He looks at me, eyes wide with fear, unlike I've ever seen before. As we get to the end of the alleyway, Butters stops, looks both ways and runs left. I'm just barely catching up with him as I turn down the street in follow. He opens a dumpster and jumps inside it, holding it open and gesturing for me to get inside as well.

"Hurry the fuck up!" he whispers in a low voice. Woah. I rarely ever hear Butters say fuck. You know something is wrong when Butters says the F word. I frantically scramble over the edge the dumpster before falling in, and he shuts the lid on both of us.

"Oh my god," I pant. I'm breathing so hard from all that exercise. I'm surprised I did not have a heart attack.

Butters clamps his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I'm trying not to puke, because it smells like a literal corpse inside here.

Literally seconds later, we hear the sound of the police officers and their belts running out of the alleyway. They say something - hard to tell what, with sound being somewhat muffled inside the dumpster - and then keep running down the street.

My heart is beating a million miles a minute. Butters slowly releases his hand from my mouth, but I stay quiet.

We stay inside the dumpster for at least ten minutes. About two minutes ago, we heard the sound of the police car sirens taking off and driving off into the distance. I bravely decide to peek out from under the lid. The coast is clear, but I don't think it's entirely safe to come out yet.

I look at my watch. 10:53 PM. The next bus comes at 11:26 PM.

"This was the dumbest idea ever," Butters complains in a low whisper. "Now they're gonna be out lookin for us. Why'd you have to kick that officer??"

I furrow my brow. "I was panicked! I don't know! And fuck you, it would've been a sweet idea if that guy wasn't a fucking cop. I was supposed to be the undercover cop, not him!"

"Ye-yah, well now we'd better get far away from here. It ain't safe to stay. If we can make it out first without getting caught," he whispers back.

I take a deep sigh. We're in for a long night.


	17. Margie and Cherie

_(Butters' POV)_

It's now a bit past 1AM, and I'm exhausted. We finally made it back to our hotel room. We're lucky that we actually made it back without getting picked up by cops. After getting lost twice, it took us over two hours to find our way back. The freezing temperatures outside definitely didn't make things any more pleasant. And we had to sneak our way around, hiding in the darkness and scurrying along buildings and streets like rats. It was a close call, since we spotted a few cop cars driving by on the way.

But we still don't get to go to sleep yet, cuz now we're busy dying our hair. Eric's idea, of course. We have to disguise ourselves now that we're fugitives. So now we're just sitting on the bed with gooey dye in our hair. It takes about 40 minutes for it to do it's job, according to the instructions. It's been about 30 minutes so far.

We got the cheapest stuff we could find at the drug store. Eric thought it would be cool to do black with red streaks. He said it would look badass and punk, and then nobody would mess with us. But when we got back to the hotel, we realized that the red dye we bought was actually _pink_. And then he ended up using all the black dye on his own hair, so he used the remaining pink dye on mine. Meaning that I'm gonna look like a stupid flamingo head now. I'm not super thrilled about it, but I guess I got worse things to worry about.

I glance over at him. His hair is all spiked up by the coloring gel. Mine is doing that as well. "Heh, we look like hedge hogs," I chuckle.

Eric looks up at me and laughs. "Or those stupid boy band popstars from the early 2000's."

"Heheh, yeah," I nod.

He sighs and looks down at the bed comforter. "Hey, sorry that tonight sucked so badly. I'm such a dumbass, I can't even plan a proper crime right."

I frown and pull him into a supportive hug. "Aw, don't be so hard on yourself. I'm sure one day, you'll be a great criminal!"

His eyes light up as he looks up and smiles at me. "You..you really think so?"

"Of course!" I reply. "One day, you'll make millions screwin people over. Maybe you'll become a politician or a business man. I can just imagine you..using your charisma to worm your way into people's gullible lil hearts, and then just when they begin to trust you, you'll run off to some tropical island with undelivered promises and their money in your pocket," I say confidently. "Cuz that's the Eric I know and love."

Eric pulls away from our embrace and looks at me with tears in his eyes. "Butters, you're amazing. You're the only person I've ever known who supports my dreams."

"I just want you to be happy. If ten million dollars is what makes you happy, then I hope you get it some day," I smile.

"And I hope we'll still be..something, by then.." he says, grabbing my hand.

"I'll always be by your side, Eric. Till the day you decide to screw me over," I say, giving his hand a squeeze. "And even then, I'll prolly end up forgiving you, cause I'm just a big softy for you and your silly shenanigans."

He grins and leans in to kiss me. I feel tingly butterflies in my belly while returning the kiss. Then I lose my balance and fall over backwards off the bed.

"Crap," I mutter, picking myself up. Eric laughs hysterically at my accident, to which I smack him in the head. Then I realize I have hair dye all over my hands. It's all over the carpet as well. Damn, we made a really big mess in here.

"Oh my god," he continues to laugh hysterically. "We better get outta here in the morning before they yell at us for fucking up the place."

I sigh. We've only got a few hours left before we'll need to leave, and we ain't even had no sleep. Being a homeless fugitive is tough. "Well, I think it's about time to wash this crap out of our hair," I say.

"Yeah. We desperately need showers. Especially after spending half an hour inside of a dumpster," he says, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

I nod in agreement. "Do you wanna go in first, or you want me to go first?" I ask.

He pauses, and then smiles deviously at me. "Weeeell..we could just...take one together? You know, to save time."

My eyes widen in fear. "Oh. Umm.." I try to think of something to say, but no words come out. I feel my cheeks heating up. He begins laughing at me again.

"Are you blushing?" he asks.

"N-no.." I lie.

"Oh god, yes you are. You're so innocent. It's okay, we don't have to share a shower. You can go first."

"No, um, you can go first!" I reply.

He just shrugs and goes into the bathroom. Then he peeks his head back out. "Door is unlocked if you change your mind," he winks.

I bite my lower lip as I stand there, hearing him fumble around in the bathroom as he turns on the shower.

Aw, what the hell. I'm a free man now, I can do what I want. That's what independent adults do, right? So in an act of bravery, I strip all my clothes off and run into the bathroom, butt naked.

It's humid and steamy in there. He must really have the hot water cranked up. I can't blame him, we froze our bums off tonight. I see the mirror beginning to fog up already. I look at the shower curtain and take a deep breath. I'm nervous...I mean, we've seen each other naked before when we were young, but that was different.

Well, here goes nothin. I pull aside the curtain and step into the shower with him. He's using one of those poofy wash things, and he's all full of soapy suds. He jumps and turns around to face me, a surprised look on his face. His hair looks much darker now.

Oh gosh, this is awkward. "Um.." I say, looking at the wall. Before I can think of something to say to break the ice, he puts his hand on my shoulder and pulls me in for a kiss.

I close my eyes and try to relax. It feels really nice, kissing under a hot stream of water. But just as I'm starting to enjoy it, he pulls away from me. I open my eyes and he's handing me the shower hose. "So you can rinse that dye out of your hair," he grins, before turning around to continue soaping himself.

I grab the nozzle and wash the water through my hair. I see a puddle of bright pink dye dripping down the drain. Oh boy, tonight has been a lot to handle. First time running from cops, first time dying my hair, first time showering with my first ever boyfriend.

"So uh," he says, facing away from me. "Just so we're clear, no touching my ass or grabbing for my dick while we shower, please."

My jaw drops. "Jesus, Eric, I didn't come in here to molest you. I'm just tryna take a shower. What do you think I am, a pervert?"

"Well I don't know! I didn't want you to get the wrong impression, just cause we're boyfriends now. That doesn't mean you can just randomly go copping feels, or sliding a finger up my ass, or pinching my nipples, or-"

"Eric, _you're_ the one thinking up these things, not me!" I say, cutting him off. I can't believe we're having this conversation while naked in the shower. This just makes things even more awkward.

"Fine, whatever," he huffs. I roll my eyes. He opens the curtain and reaches out for an extra wash cloth to hand to me. I take it and pour some liquid soap onto it. He brought this bottle of really good smelling fruity body wash with him, which we've been using all week. The smell of it kinda calms my nerves a bit.

Before I know it, we end up lathering each other's backs with our soapy cloths and giggling a lot as we blow bubbles at each other. Then I pour shampoo on his head and turn his hair into a funny shaped mohawk. He washes it away though.

"Butters.." he says.

"What?" I reply.

"You're a dirty boy," he says with a wink. "I mean literally. You had dirt all over your neck," he laughs, scrubbing my neck with the cloth.

"Oh," I laugh, while lathering soap suds onto his shoulders. "Well, good thing you're helping me get clean," I say, winking back. Oh god, that was corny. I've never been very good at flirting.

He just begins laughing even more. "You're too cute."

"You're even more cuter," I say, poking his stomach and smiling. He has such a soft pudgy belly, I've always loved it.

Suddenly, he freezes and looks up at something on the wall, as if he sees a ghost or something. I turn around to look and see nothing. I look back at him and he suddenly looks pissed off. Oh gosh, did I do something wrong?

Out of nowhere, he picks up a bar of soap and flings it angrily at the wall. I cringe and take a step backwards. His face is turning red and he's shaking. He frantically gets out of the shower and stomps onto the floor, drying himself off with a towel. "Go away!" he yells.

My eyes widen. I peek out the curtain and he's swinging his arms around like a crazy man.

"I don't like you anymore!" he yells. "I told you to leave me alone!"

Um. What the hell is he talking about? "W-what's wrong?," I reply, trying to calm him down. I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist.

"This bastard is what's wrong!" Cartman yells. I step out of the tub and see him pointing at nothing.

"Um..what?" I ask. Is this another one of his delusions?

" _Him!_ " he yells, shaking his finger at thin air. "Why can't anyone else see him?!"

I look around the bathroom and see nothing. I take a deep breath. "M-maybe because he doesn't exist?"

Eric shakes his head furiously. "He _does_ exist! He's talking to me right now! He's existed since I was a little kid, and he never goes away," he groans, emphasizing the last part. "Every time I think he's gone away, he comes back again. He won't fucking leave!" he yells, frustratingly pulling at his hair.

He picks up a shampoo bottle and throws it all the wall. "Die, you little flying midget asshole!"

Oh jeez. This doesn't look good. Eric rushes out of the bathroom and slams the door on me. I stand there and look in the mirror. I've always known about Eric's delusional visions, but I didn't really know how bad they were.

I decide to let him cool off before leaving the bathroom. I grab a comb and brush my hair, then dry myself off and wrap the towel around my waist. I open the bathroom door quietly, peeking out into the room. He's dressed in his underwear and a large t-shirt, sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching his head as he rocks back and forth.

I step out and he looks up, scanning the room with his eyes. He takes a deep sigh of relief. "He's gone now. I made him vanish," he says.

I sit down on the bed too, but keep a safe distance. "Who is he?" I ask.

Eric sighs again. "Cupid Me. He's like, this little flying cupid version of me."

I raise an eyebrow. It sounds familiar. I think I've heard him talking to "cupid me" a few times before. And I fondly remember him talking to an invisible fairy when we were kids.

"Except, he's not really a cupid anymore," Eric continues. "Now he's just an asshole with wings."

Well..the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, I guess, but I don't dare say that out loud. Staying quiet, I search my bag for clean clothes to put on and start getting dressed, not making eye contact with him. As soon as I turn around, I see him staring at me. He quickly looks away like he'd been caught.

"Were you just watching me?" I ask with a suspicious smile.

"No," he shakes his head abruptly.

I let out a chuckle. " _Suuree_.."

"Who cares if I was? We literally just took a shower together, it can't get any gayer than that," he argues defensively. He seems pretty stressed out.

"Relax, I'm just teasin," I say. I grab my towel and try to dry my hair again before putting it back in the bathroom. He has his towel thrown on the floor but doesn't seem to care. I pick it up and put it back on the rack. At least we can try to make this mess we made look a little more decent.

I come back out and he's staring at me again.

"What?" I ask.

"Uh, nothing. Your hair looks... _interesting_ ," he says, just barely cracking a smile.

"Hey, don't laugh at me, this was _your_ idea!" I reply.

He tries to hold it in, but a barrage of chuckles escapes. I look at him angrily.

"S-sorry.." he breathes. "Really, though, it's not bad. It looks.... _avant garde._ Like the color of bubblegum, cotton candy, or perhaps a vagina."

I pick the pillow up off the bed and whack him in the face with it. He shields his face and laughs even harder.

"Stop it!" I yell. "This ain't funny!"

"Okay, okay, sorry," he replies with a serious face. And then he looks at my hair and bursts into laughter again.

Okay, he's pissing me off. I smack him again with the pillow, and before I know it we're both hitting each other with pillows in a pillow fight.

"Time out!" he suddenly yells. "Okay, that's enough, I'm too tired."

I look at the clock. It's now almost 2AM. "Yeah..it's getting late."

Eric frowns. "But the sooner we get out of here, the better. We have some time, the buses don't start until about 5 AM."

I take in a yawn. "So can we take a quick nap before we leave?"

He looks at the clock and nods. "Duh. I'm too tired to stay awake."

So I set the alarm to wake us up in three hours, before getting into the bed. He joins me, and I'm surprised when I feel him move towards me and wrap his arms around me. It isn't long until I hear him sleeping.

* * *

_(Cartman's POV)_

I hear the beeping of the alarm clock and slowly open my eyes. I turn to see Butters facing me, his eyes half open as well. I'm still not used to seeing him with pink hair.

"You awake? Guess it's time to get up.." he says in a sleepy voice, yawning. His yawn is contagious, because I end up yawning as well.

"Unfortunately. Ready to leave Colorado?" I ask in a groggy voice.

He just blinks at me, looking very tired and absolutely miserable. " _No_ ," he responds.

Something compels me to grab his chin, lean in and kiss him. He closes his eyes and doesn't open them when I pull away. It looks he is falling back asleep. Dammit, he looks so cute sleeping. But then he slowly pries his eyes open again and smiles at me.

I smile back at him, before rolling out of bed and going into the bathroom to take a piss.

I can't believe everything that's happened to me this past week. Scratch that, this entire _month_. Most of all though, I can't believe that I took a shower with Butters. I never would have imagined myself doing that. I was nervous when he stepped into the shower with me. But all we ended up doing was making a bunch of bubbles. It was totally gay but fun.

Then that cupid asshole came in and ruined it. Butters couldn't even see him. He flew above us in the air and took a piss on our heads. The little bastard told me that he was giving us a "golden shower". That's when I really lost it. I flipped out at that little flying shit. Fucking asshole, always messing with my brain. Trying to make me look crazy in front of other people.

I stop thinking about him as I look in the mirror at my new hair. I really don't know if this is gonna be enough to properly disguise myself. Yep, this was a pretty dumb idea. I'm just full of those lately, aren't I?

I hear the bathroom door creek open and Butters peeks his head in. "Can I come in?"

I nod and he enters, checking out his new hair in the bathroom mirror and shaking his head. "Eric..what the hell did you do to my hair?!"

Things didn't really go as planned, and now Butters has pink hair. Yes. Flamingo pink. The box said red, but inside it was pink dye. I guess that's what you get for buying a cheap one dollar hair dye.

I let out a giggle as I touch his hair, fluffing it up a bit. "It's...it's not that bad."

He just frowns at me. "I look ridiculous!"

I sigh. "Well, some blow drying and some hair gel should fix the problem," I say, snapping my fingers like a sassy gay hair stylist.

That gets him to chuckle as he looks in the mirror again, fussing with his hair. I can't lie to myself. I'd be embarrassed if I had hair that color.  
  
Eh, whatever, we don't have time to fret. I pull out the hair dryer and a comb and Butters let's me dry his hair. It only takes a few minutes. It honestly doesn't look much better dried.

"Hmm.." I say, grabbing a bottle of styling product. "Let me try styling it," I throw some of the product onto my palms and rub it around his hair with no particular sense of what I'm doing, until his hair is left sticking up in a big pink poof. I try my hardest not to laugh.

I rub my chin as I examine my work. "Perfect!" I lie. "Looks very..um..very punk."

Butters looks in the mirror and gasps. "Now I look like I've got a scoop of strawberry ice cream on top of my head," he cries.

I start laughing. He frowns at me. "This isn't funny! Would you wanna walk around looking like this?" he complains, folding his arms.

"Oh my god, whatever, asshole!" I wave my hand at him dramatically. "I tried my best. We've got way more important problems to worry about right now than our hair."

He huffs and storms out of the room like a chick on his period. Jesus Christ. I pick up the hair dryer again and start drying mine next.

"Eric!!" Butters frantic voice suddenly calls. "Get in here! Hurry!"

I roll my eyes. What now? I throw the hair dryer down and leave the bathroom. Butters is sitting on the edge of the bed, pointing at the television in shock.

" _The two teenaged boys from Colorado have been missing all week, deputies said. But last night, things took a bizarre turn when local Denver cops involved in a prostitution sting operation reported a sighting. Officer Peabody says he was physically assaulted by the fat one before they took off running._ "

"Ey! I'm not that fat!" I yell at the TV.

Our photos then appear on the TV. " _If you or anyone you know has seen these boys, please contact your local police_."

"Fuck!" I yell. "Now our faces are on TV. We should have gotten out of here earlier."

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda," Butters sighs, turning off the TV.

I try to think of a plan, and fast. "Shit. We need a better disguise, Butters. If I had known we'd be on the news, I wouldn't have even bothered dying our hair."

He looks at me worriedly. "Well, what are we gonna do now?"

I rummage through my suitcase and pull out two women's wigs I brought with me. You know, just in case. I brought some makeup too, because you never know when you might need it. Anyway. "We're gonna disguise ourselves as chicks," I inform him.

"Oh yay!" he claps, grinning widely. His reaction isn't quite what I was expecting.

"You like this stuff?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. Then again, I don't know why I'm surprised. It's _Butters_.

"Well, I would sometimes go into the bathroom and sneakily try on my mom's makeup. I had to be careful though, cause my dad would beat me up if he found out. But this should be fun!" he says excitedly, looking through my suitcase at the girly crap I brought with me.

"Oh. Kewl." I shrug and pull out my makeup bag, dumping the contents onto the bed. Butters looks through it and picks up the sparkly eye shadow palette.

"Ooh, I want purple eyes," he says, pointing at the purples. "Ooh, with some of that glittery stuff. That would be pretty."

"Kay, babe. Just sit down and I'll do it for you. I'm like, an expert at doing makeup, and stuff," I lie. I don't really have that much experience, but I'm excited to have a willing victim to practice on this time.

"Ok!" He grins and sits down in a chair. I look at his face, rub my chin and get to work. The hotel room is kind of dimly lit, but I try my best.

Ten minutes later, my work is complete. It's not the best, but it seems good enough to help him pass as a teenage girl. I fit on his blonde wig and we go into the bathroom to show him his new look in the mirror.

He gasps when he looks in the mirror. "Wow. You made me look pretty!" He twirls his long blonde hair around, smiling. I gave him cat liner with purple sparkly eye shadow, mascara, pink blush and pink sparkly lip gloss.

I grin, admiring my work in the mirror. "You look like a princess. Now let me just do my own face and then we can get the hell outta here."

I bring my stuff into the bathroom and get started. I give myself ruby red lip gloss, cat liner, and some dark eyeshadow and mascara, complete with some red blush. Then I fasten the long wavy brown wig onto my head. I smooth the wig down with some hair gel and look into the mirror. Damn, I look pretty hot for a chubby chick, if I do say so myself.

Butters takes a peek in and grins. "Oh my god! You're gorgeous. How did you do that??"

"How do you think Hollywood makes ordinary people look hot? They're all fake. Makeup and hair can do wonders," I wink.

Butters and I are lucky we have just the right faces to pass as girls, though. We aren't very tall either, so we might just blend in without suspicion.

"What should we wear?" he asks.

I shrug. "I don't really have anything for us to wear that won't stand out. We can just wear our regular clothes. Most chicks wear jackets and jeans in the winter anyway, so that should be OK."

He nods and we get dressed in our normal winter clothes. Butters forgoes his jacket for a warm, oversized light blue sweater. It looks girly enough. Then we pull our boots on and pack our bags. I look at Butters again and laugh. "This is crazy, isn't it?"

"Sure is," he says, touching my wig hair. "Oh! We gotta make sure we sound like girls, too."

"You mean like this?" I say in a softer, higher pitched voice.

He starts laughing. "That was pretty good!"

Butters clears his throat and gives it a try. "Hello, my name is..uh. Umm..my name is..Margie!" he says in an effeminate voice. Eh, not too bad.

"Hello Margie, nice to meet you! My name is Cherie, and I have a vagina," I reply, holding in my laughter.

"Oh, you do? I too, also happen to have a vagina. What a coincidence!" he replies in the same voice.

I break out in laughter. "Okay, Margie, are you ready to get our vaginas out the door? Cause it's almost 6AM!" I say, nervously looking at the clock.

He takes a deep breath. "Oh jeez! I guess so."

I smile and lean in to kiss him. Only a small peck, because I don't want our lip gloss getting too messed up. He smiles back at me.


	18. A Bus Full of Mormons

(Cartman's POV)

Butters and I are now at the bus station, hauling all of our shit with us again and trying our best to appear normal, despite wearing wigs and sunglasses indoors. We've gotten a few stares, but I can't tell if people are on to our disguise or not. I look down at my watch. It's now 6:39 AM and I'm still tired as shit. We aren't even sure where we're going yet. A lot of the out of state bus tickets are expensive, so we're trying to figure out which one will take us the furthest away from Colorado for the least amount of money.

As we walk around, we see an old guy standing there looking around, waving tickets in the air. "Ello ladies," he greets, revealing rotten teeth. "Interested in some discounted tickets to Las Vegas? Much cheaper than the ticket booth price."

I glance at Butters. He just shrugs. "Eh, why not?" I respond in my fake girl voice. The mans grins and pulls out two tickets. I take some cash out of my bag. I'm not gonna bother questioning how this man got the tickets or why he's selling them for less. As long as they'll get us outta here, I don't give a crap.

An hour later, we're on a run down bus heading to Utah. The tickets we bought do not, in fact, go all the way to Las Vegas. We probably overpaid for them, too.

I sit there slumped in my seat. "I can't believe that asshole tricked us."

"Well, he only half tricked us. We can still get to Las Vegas, w-we just gotta take another bus, after we get off this one," Butters informs me.

"Shut up, Butters," I mutter, scratching my head. I can't wait to get this damn wig off my head.

Butters ignores my request and pats his legs excitedly. "Oh boy, that would be cool! I ain't never been to Las Vegas before!"

"Me neither," I shrug. "But I heard it's overrated. Everything there is more expensive, and it's full of drunks, hookers and gambling addicts."

"Sure is! City of sin, they call it!" says a man sitting next to us. I glance up at him. He looks to be about in his twenties, and is wearing black slacks, a white button up shirt with a tie and a name tag I can't quite read. Looks like an office clerk or a salesman. Shit, did this guy hear us talking in our regular voices?

"Hey there, I'm Kirk!" he greets us in an annoyingly peppy voice, reaching out his hand. Butters, sitting closest to the aisle, shakes hands with him. Wait, no, he's not an office clerk or a salesman..they wouldn't be so peppy. He's gotta be a Mormon.

"Hi Kirk, uh, I'm uhh, Margie and this here is Cherie," Butters responds in his fake voice. I kick him in the ankle and he looks at me. Doesn't he know better than to engage with Mormons? Once you make eye contact, they don't leave you alone.

"Nice to meet ya! So, what are you gals planning to do in Utah?" he asks, smiling and showing his perfect teeth.

I cringe at his obnoxiously happy demeanor. I just met him and I already hate this guy.

"Oh you know, uh, just usual stuff," Butters answers.

"Great! Sight seeing I guess? Anything you'd like to see while you're there?" he asks. God, can't this asshole just mind his own business and leave us alone?

"Cows," I answer. "We'd like to see cows."

Butters lets out a laugh. The man also chuckles loudly at my unintended joke. "Well, there's plenty of those around! Hey, we're all headed to our camp, there's a bunch of cows there. You should stop by!"

"We?" I ask, craning my neck up and looking around the bus. It's full of men in similar uniforms. Oh, fuck me.

He chuckles again. "Yeah! We're missionaries, and we're headed to a Mormon education camp! I'm one of the counselors!" he replies. I knew it. Some of the other men turn their heads around and he waves at them. "Hey guys, say hi to Margie and Cherie!"

"Hi!" several of them greet in similarly peppy voices, smiling and waving at us.

"Um..are we the only non-Mormons on this bus?" I ask.

He scans the bus and then grins at us. "Heh, looks like it!"

Aw, dammit. We're stuck on a bus for several hours with these assholes. I bang my head against the window.

Time passes and we look out the window at the boring scenery while the Mormons sing annoying songs out loud. Butters smiles and claps his hands while they sing. I roll my eyes.

This is gonna be a long ride.

* * *

_(Kyle's POV)_

Every night lately, I've been logging on to the game to check and see if he's come online recently. His mom said that he took his laptop with him. Each time I look though, it says he hasn't been online in over a week. I'm getting more nervous every day.

I've tried texting him and calling his phone, but he doesn't respond. The calls go straight to voicemail, which means he must have the phone turned off. Or something happened to it.

Or..something happened to _him_. I try not to think too much about that, but it's a fear that's becoming more realistic every day. The weather outside has been brutal lately. For all we know, their frozen bodies could be buried beneath a snow bank somewhere.

That evening I sat there slouched over in my desk chair, looking at the desolate state of our nightclub. Since nobody's been around lately to keep things in order, I didn't even notice that Rico's gang closed in and ransacked the place, harassing our dancers and spraying grafitti all over the walls. Guess he's angry at us for leaving his mafia and doing our own thing.

If Cherry were here, she would have given these guys an ass whooping and sent them back to the virtual slums they came from.

As pathetic as it sounds, I really miss my old virtual life. It feels empty now with Cartman gone.

I watch sadly as a virtual tumbleweed blows by the streets outside the night club. With a sigh, I exit the game and try to focus on studying for the test I have tomorrow.

Later that night, I see Butters' and Cartman's faces on the news, and my heart races. They were last seen in Denver, assaulting a police officer. I let out a deep sigh of relief. They're both alive! Thank god! They're up to no good like I expected, but it's a big relief to know that they didn't die.

Maybe they'll be back soon. Maybe the police will catch them, or they'll give up on trying to hack it on their own. They're bound to break eventually.

I log back into the game and check again to see if he's been online. Nope. I pull up his username and click to send him a message.

FreyaCutiePie: Where the hell did you go?

And..send. Even if he does come online, he's probably pissed at me and doesn't want to talk to me. Worth a shot though.

I exit the game and tiredly go to bed.

* * *

_(Cartman's POV)_

It's night time now, and after hours of hell, the bus finally reached the end of it's route. Now we're in some town in Utah I've never even heard of. We got dropped off in the middle of fuckin nowhere, in the dark.

We stand there with all of our bags, looking around aimlessly at the empty scenery. I even see a tumbleweed blow by.

Then I see the dick that was sitting next to us during the whole bus ride come up to us, smiling with that stupid smile on his face again.

Butters smiles back at him. I scowl at the sight.

"You guys look lost. Ya know where you're going?" he asks.

"We're fine." "No!" Butters and I say at the same time. I jab him with my elbow. Why the hell does he want this creep's help?

The man just laughs. "Well, you girls are welcome to come with us if you want. We have a bunch of extra cabins at our camp, I'm sure the camp leader wouldn't mind lending you guys one. We always try to help people in need! Plus, we've got cows!" he says, shooting finger guns at me.

"Oh boy!" Butters says excitedly. "That's awfully generous of you, mister."

"Call me Kirk!" he winks at Butters. He fucking winks at him - er, her. I think this dumbass has a crush on Butters. Or should I say "Margie".

I glare at Kirk. But before I can think or say anything, he's gesturing for us to follow him.

"Alright!" he grins. "Follow me, we've got our buddies coming to pick us up in vans."

Butters starts following him and looks back at me, motioning for me to come as well. I stay put, standing there wondering if it's really the best idea to follow a bunch of strange men back to their van, especially while we're dressed like teenage girls. And when that douchebag seems to be flirting with Butters.

But being broke and homeless is a bitch, and I realize that we've got nowhere else to go, and it's cold as fuck out here. So reluctantly, I end up following Butters back to the stranger's van.

It's fine. We'll be perfectly fine. What could possibly go wrong here?

* * *

"Alright, see ya tomorrow!" Kirk and one of the camp leaders smiles and waves goodbye to us, leaving us to spend the night in one of their cabins. We've actually got the cabin to ourselves, which is pretty sweet.

Turns out they were legit about going to a camp and letting us stay in one of their extra cabins. I was so certain that they were just going to rape and murder us, drink our blood and then and feed our drained pale corpses to their farm goats. But we haven't been killed or raped yet, so I guess we're safe...for now.

I just don't like that Kirk douchebag. I must have made Butters too attractive when doing his hair and makeup, because he obviously has the hots for "Margie". He's been giving Butters creepy lingering glances ever since we met him.

And if I'm not mistaken, Butters was definitely looking back at him as well. We haven't even been dating a week yet and already he's looking at other men. Well _excuse me_ if I'm not some hot shot Mormon camp counselor with perfectly white teeth and dimples.

"Wow, Kirk sure is a nice guy," Butters says, as if reading my mind. "We'd be spending the night freezing to death if he hadn't helped us!"

I grit my teeth. "Yeah, whatever."

"I liked that story he told us about the chickens he had growing up, heh! That was funny!" he continues, completely oblivious to my jealousy. What was so funny about his stupid chicken story?? 

"Mmhmm. I'm tired. Good night, Butters," I say, trying to filter the anger out of my voice. I throw my wig off, and then promptly get into bed and pull the covers over me, closing my eyes.

"O-okay. Night!" Butters says, pulling his wig off as well.

We don't talk after that and go to bed in silence. It's easy to get comfortable under the nice warm, clean quilt. This is much nicer than any of the shitty hotels we've stayed in. I guess Kirk really bailed us out tonight.

Still, fuck Kirk. He's an asshole.


	19. Horses and Mumus

_(Cartman's POV)_

The sunlight peering through the cabin blinds wakes me up. I groan and try to adjust my eyes, looking at my wrist watch. It's already well past 10 AM. Shit, did I really sleep that long? I roll over and look at Butters' bed, only to see that it's empty.

"Butters?" I call out. Is he inside the bathroom? No response. I sit up and look around the tiny cabin. His suitcase looks like it's been opened and rummaged through, but he's nowhere to be seen.

I roll out of the twin bed and walk over to the window, peering through the curtains. Now that it's daylight, I can see a row of cabins far across from ours, with fields of grass and some animal pens in between. It's there that I spot Butters' blonde wig in the distance. He's inside the goat pen, with that stupid guy again.They're both laughing while Butters holds food out from his hand for the goats to eat from. Blegh. The sight of it makes me sick.

I throw the curtain back and storm into the bathroom to take a piss. Then I spend the next 10 minutes putting on my "girl costume". I brush and smooth down my wig, fit it on my head and then hastily apply some eyeliner and eyeshadow. My head itches in this stupid wig. I really had no intentions of having to keep up with this disguise for more than a day, so hopefully we'll get outta this Mormon prison camp soon.

Just as I'm finishing up the final touches on my makeup, Butters bursts back in through the door. He spots me sitting there on the floor, staring into a hand mirror propped up on my suitcase, a tube of mascara in my hand.

"Oh, hiya Eric. You finally woke up!" he greets.

I look at his face. He's wearing makeup too. "Oh, uh, sorry, I borrowed some of yours," he explains, reading my mind. "I didn't wanna wake you up."

"Well I wish you did," I groan. "We've gotta get ready to leave!"

"Ohh, about that.." Butters fiddles with his fingers. "Kirk said we're welcome to stay as long as we need to."

I open my mouth to speak and then close it. Butters is smiling stupidly, almost as though he actually wants to be here. In the middle of buttfucking nowhere, Utah, surrounded by creepy Mormons who smile 24/7. What if they're actually aliens? It isn't wise to trust any living creatures who seem _that_ happy. "But..but..that means we've got to wear this stupid fucking disguise as long as we're here!" I protest.

"I know, but do you have a better plan that won't cost us the rest of our life savings??" he huffs, crossing his arms. "We're getting _this_ close to being on the streets!" he yells, showing an inch between his fingers to visualize our financial status.

I scowl, shoving the tube of mascara back into my bag. "He's just letting us stay here because he wants to get into your pants. I can't believe that idiot really believes you're a girl."

Butters frowns. "I think he's just being nice."

I roll my eyes. "Guys don't just _'be nice'_ to girls, Butters. They're only nice when they want pussy. And apparently, this guy is dumb enough to think you have one."

"So what? If lookin' like a pretty girl gets me free stuff, then so be it!" Butters argues, sitting down on his bed.

"Psh, sounds like something a skank would say," I casually blurt out, pulling out a tube of lip gloss.

He gasps. "Oh, don't act like you're Mister Moral, Eric! _You_ were the one tryin to whore me off to some creeps on the internet!"

"Nuh uh. The plan was to just kick the guy in the balls and run off with his money," I argue. "That's not comparable to letting some creepy dude slobber all over you in exchange for a place to stay."

"Slobber all over me? You're blowing this way outta proportion!"

"Am not!" I reply defensively.

"Are too!" he yells back.

"Nuh uh!"

"Yuh huh!"

Just then, we hear a knock on the cabin door. We both look up suspiciously at the sound.

"Come in!" Butters yells, much to my annoyance.

And who would have guessed? The very same asshole that we were just arguing about peeks his head in through the door, smiling at Butters with his stupid dimple cheeked smile. This guy is really starting to weird me out. Can he not just fucking leave him alone??

"Hey! You guys wanna go see the cows?" Kirk asks, once again sounding overly enthusiastic.

"Well, sure!" Butters answers for both of us, sounding a little too enthusiastic himself. He would make a great Mormon. Asshole.

Kirk grins his signature psychopathic smile and gestures for us to follow him. I roll my eyes as Butters leaves the cabin to follow him like a dog. I consider staying behind, but end up reluctantly grabbing my jacket and following them in tow, just in case this guy tries to kill Butters or something. He trusts people way too easily.

* * *

Well, nobody has been murdered so far, so there's that. After spending thirty minutes staring at the oh so interesting cows that do nothing but glare at us while chewing grass, and listening to Kirk ramble on about his hot, rugged, manly life growing up on a farm, we've moved on to a tour of the horse stables.

It smells like shit in here. Probably because it's full of horse shit. Just like Kirk. I'm giving him the evil eye, which goes completely unnoticed by him as he talks about how he used to train horses to jump over bars, or some stupid shit.

It feels like he's not talking to me at all, just to Butters. Which is seriously starting to piss me off. And Butters doesn't do anything about it, he just gives me a few sympathetic glances every now and then, while this narcissistic motormouth rabbles on and on about himself.

"So, you girls wanna go for a ride?" he eventually asks, grinning flirtatiously at Butters. I nearly choke. Is this guy for seriously? He doesn't even look at me at he says this. He looks directly at Butters. It's cause I'm too fat and not pretty enough to be acknowledged, isn't it?? I'm starting to feel like ALL men are jerks. One more day of this bullshit and I'm going to turn into a bra burning feminazi.

"I can take you around the field if you want. Lucy is a really tame horse. She won't buck you off or anything," he adds, petting the dark brown horse's mane.

Butters looks noticeably uncomfortable, but shrugs anyway. "Umm, sure, I guess!"

I glare at him. Butters gives me a "what?" look in response, and we stand there watching as the douchebag opens the pen, putting a reign on the horse and guiding her out of the stall. We step aside as the large horse makes it's way through.

Next thing I know, I'm standing in a field watching this guy try to push Butters up onto the horse, with his hand firmly on Butters' ass. It's making me furious. I keep silent and watch as he then hops up on the horse as well. Butters fearfully holds on to his waist, as instructed. Then they trollop away into the sunset, leaving me in the dust.

I'm feeling like a third wheel as I stand there awkwardly watching Kirk, Butters and the horse gallop at a speedy pace around the field. Saying that this horse was "tame" was clearly an understatement. It picks up speed and starts running when Kirk kicks it with his leg. I don't like this at all, but then I see something that makes me snap. Butters cracks a small smile, as though he's actually having _fun_ with this douchebag prince charming on horse back. He tightens his hold onto Kirk's waist and starts grinning as they ride around in loops.

Pissed off, I run away as fast as my fat ass will carry me, not slowing down until I make it back to the cabin. I pass by an area where a bunch of Mormons are having some kind of outdoor gospel ceremony. Some of the onlookers give me strange looks, but I don't give a shit at the moment. I'm out of breath by the time I slam the cabin door shut, sliding to the floor and burying my face in my hands.

I can't believe Butters would _do this_ to me! All that bullshit he told me about "always being by my side" apparently no longer applies when some hot guy steps into his life. It isn't long before an unwanted ex-friend shows up.

"What did I tell you? Teehee, you're too fat and pathetic for anyone to love, Eric!" the familiar, uninvited voice spouts above my head.

I attempt to ignore it as I rip off my wig and throw it across the room.

"You don't even look pretty in a wig and five pounds of makeup!" the voice continues to taunt. "You'll always be ugly and fat, no matter what!"

I grit my teeth as I give him the middle finger.

"Teehee, your daddy didn't even want to acknowledge your existence! He paid your mommy off to keep it a secret! Even your mommy didn't want you, you were a mistake!"

I jump up and furiously swat at the flying bastard, screaming as my fists fly into nothing. Eventually he disappears in a pink puff of dust.

Impulsively, I grab my suitcases, zip them up and begin to roll them towards the door, before it sinks in that we're in the middle of fucking nowhere and I'm low on cash. Where the hell am I going to go?? I'm currently _stuck_ here.

My body shakes in a combination of anger and self hatred. I have nobody to blame for my situation but me this time. Or maybe Kyle. Feeling trapped, I plop down on the bed and scream into my pillow. Eventually I fall back asleep.

* * *

I wake up to feeling a hand tentatively rubbing my back. I crane my neck around to see Butters, staring down at me with his stupid face full of smudged makeup and his stupid pink puff of hair.

"E-eric? Are you alright?" he asks gently.

I look up at him, scowling. "Yes, Butters, I'm fine. Just fucking dandy. How was your horseback riding date with Prince Mormon Charming??"

Butters rolls his eyes. "It wasn't a ' _date_ ', he just pressured me into it! I didn't wanna be rude and say no!" he argues. "They're giving us a free place to stay, and we have to be nice."

"Oh, so if he asked you to suck his dick you'd do it just to 'be nice', huh??" I yell.

"No! He didn't ask me to do anything like that!" Butters responds.

" _Uhuh_ , sure. You just snuck out this morning to go gallivanting with that asshole. I don't even want to know what you two were doing while I was asleep!" I growl. "You know what, why don't I just kill myself, right now? I should just blow my brains out on the floor right here! Then you and _Kirk_ can have an orgy in my blood!"

"Eric, stop it. You sound ridiculous!" Butters shakes his head in disbelief.

"Well excuse me if I don't appreciate some handsome, perfect looking, twenty something asshole trying to steal mah boyfriend!" My face turns red as I blink back tears. "I know I'm fat, but Jesus Christ! You don't have to replace me with some hot guy and then act like nothings going on!"

"But nothing's going on! I'm not replacing you with anybody, Eric. I don't even like him! I like you," Butters says, leaning in to kiss my head.

I let out a sniffle. "Y-you mean it?"

"Of course I do, Eric. I..I love you!" he confesses, running his hand through my hair.

A small smile forms on my lips. I lean up and kiss him on the lips. "I, um, I love you too. I just, y'know, get a little bit jealous sometimes.."

"I'll try to avoid him from now on, Eric," he says, smiling back as he lays down next to me on the bed.

"Kewl, thanks." I wrap my arms around him tightly, thinking about various ways to murder _Kirk_. I envision his chopped up corpse being burned in a trash can and smile to myself.

We spend the rest of the afternoon inside the cabin, sitting around doing nothing and reading old magazines. We got really bored and ended up putting on some clay facial mask stuff I stole from my mom. Then we exfoliated our faces with my favorite vanilla scented sugar scrub. Good thing I didn't forget to bring that. Then we decided to paint each others nails. Yeah, we're really having fun with this girl role playing thing. The beauty shit I stole from my mom has come in handy, too. Butters does my nails in a shiny red coat, and I do his nails blue with glitter. We're coughing from the nail polish fumes by the time we're done, but I feel happy for the first time in a long while. This was actually kinda fun. I'm mostly calmed down by the time we fall asleep together on his bed, the relaxing visions of Kirk being tortured dancing in my head. Thankfully I'm not interrupted again by the asshole in my head that night.

* * *

_(Kyle's POV)_

I wake up to the unpleasant buzzing sound of my alarm clock. I reach my hand up and bang on it until it stops. "Mehh..too tired to get up yet.." I mutter to myself, yawning.

"Then don't," an unfamiliar female voice responds. What the..? Seemingly out of nowhere, a blonde woman walks into my bedroom, grinning seductively at me. She doesn't look like anyone I've seen before, but she could easily pass for a supermodel. Her lips are painted bright red, and she's wearing a red dress of the same color.

She comes closer to me and crawls onto my bed, hovering over me. I gulp. "W-who are you?"

"Who do you think I am, silly?" she giggles, leaning down and kissing my neck. I gasp in surprise. Apparently logic is thrown out the window when I lean up and start kissing her. I still don't even know this woman's name, or how she got in my bedroom.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" I ask, kissing her jawline.

She pulls away and grins. "They call me Cherry."

I freeze in terror, blinking and rubbing my eyes to see if this is reality. When I open my eyes again, it's no longer the woman from before..it's now Cartman, hovering over me, wearing the same shade of red lipstick. "Shhh," he whispers, pressing a finger to my lips.

I jump out of bed, sweating profusely. Holy shit. These freaky dreams have got to stop.

The next night, I have a similar dream, except when the woman turns into Cartman I'm neither surprised, nor do I stop kissing her..him. I wake up in deep shame and confusion. Okay, what the fuck?! It doesn't really count if it's your dream self doing something utterly wrong, shameful and disgusting, right?

My brain just must be having these weird dreams because Cartman is missing and I've been thinking about it lately. Yep, that's gotta be it. Dreams don't always have to make sense. I know I'm not really into him like that. I'm straight. I'm just fantasizing about a woman who doesn't exist. A nonexistent woman, who just happens to Cartman's virtual alter ego.

Jesus, I really need to get a grip on reality.

* * *

_(Butters POV)_

We've spent a few days living at this Mormon camp already, and it's a pain in the butt to keep up our fake girl personas. Constantly having to speak in a girly voice around other people is really annoying. Wearing the wig is tiring too. And trying to fight off _Kirk's_ flirtatious advances while not coming across as rude as been a challenge in itself. I'm honestly surprised that nobody has caught on to our act yet. Instead, the people here have been super friendly towards us, although they keep trying to teach us the Mormon gospel. They expect us to attend church this Sunday, except we don't exactly have any nice lady clothes to wear.

Which is how Eric and I ended up at a local department store, perusing the women's clothing sections to look for outfits. I ain't never felt so embarrassed in my life. This is just _peak_ stupidity. We shuffle through the racks cluelessly, holding dresses up to our bodies with no idea how they would fit. To make things worse, we've got no money to spare on this crap, so Eric's plan is to shoplift our outfits. I don't like this idea very much. He insists that he's a natural at shoplifting, but I dunno about that. His last stunt backfired on us pretty badly, and the last thing we need is to get arrested for another crime.

Some women stare at us as we stand around like idiots, lost at sea in an ocean full of women's clothing racks. I ring my hands nervously and shuffle back and forth on my feet.

"Relax, dude," Eric whispers to me. "This will be fun. You like drag, don't you?"

"Y-yeah, I guess," I mutter, noticing some woman giving us a side glance in the corner of my eye.

"Then calm down, and let's pick some dresses to try on," he whispers.

"B-but the ladies are all lookin at us. I think they're on to us..." I whisper back.

"Psh, ignore those bitches. They're probably just jelly of you cause you're hot," he grins. "You would probably look better in a dress than most of them."

I let out a chuckle. "Shush, Eric. I wouldn't look good in any dresses! I'm shaped like a boy. I don't know how the hell I'm gonna pull this off.."

"We'll get something that creates the illusion of curves. Like a peplum dress!"

"A _what_?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes. "Just let me do the searching for you."

I shrug and follow him around as he continues pulling out various dresses and holding them up to me. He shakes his head at most of them. Eventually he pulls out a light pastel yellow dress, with white lacey flower detail on the shoulders and waistline. It's got a poofy skirt with more white lace petticoat material underneath.

"Ooh, this one's cute!" I grin excitedly.

"Hmm," he looks at it, holding it up to me. "I guess this might work. What size should we try? Maybe a three?" Cartman rubs his chin, eying my frame.

"Uhh, I have no idea," I shrug.

"You're a skinny bitch. We'll go with a three," he says, pulling one off the rack and handing it to me. I carry it as we move on to the plus size dresses.

He's immediately drawn towards the purple, pink and red dresses on the rack. He picks up a magenta colored dress but shakes his head as he holds it up to himself in the mirror. I pull out a light pink one with lace detail, similar to the yellow dress in my hands.

"Oh, this one almost matches mine! You have to try it on," I demand, giddy to see what he'll look like in it.

He purses his lips and inspects it before shrugging. "Okay, fine. But next we're gonna need bras."

I sigh anxiously. We walk over to the women's underwear section and glance at all the bras. This just feels wrong. Why do we always end up in these ridiculous situations? I'm starting to wonder if our freedom was really worth all this crap we have to go through.

I glance around the shelves and racks. There are soooo many bras and underwears to choose from that it's confusing. We end up browsing some simple white strapless ones.

"I'm thinking you'd be about 34A," he comments, holding a bra up to my chest. I blush as an old lady walks by, looking at us. She smiles as she approaches us. "Do you ladies need any assistance?"

Oh great. I was hoping we'd get out of here unnoticed.

"No maam, we're just trying to figure out our titty size," Eric replies, cupping and grabbing his own chest. The lady just raises an eyebrow before smiling awkwardly and walking away.

We both break out in laughter once she's out of sight. I'm so embarrassed, Eric has no shame whatsoever! He continues laughing as he throws on a giant red lacey bra and struts around with it over top of his T-shirt.

"Eric, stop it!" I smack him in the arm, trying to contain my own laughter. "You're gonna get us kicked out!"

"Pssh, whateva, I do what I want," he replies, waving his hand at me dismissively. I roll my eyes. He's been using that phrase since 4th grade.

"Really though, we don't need to attract any more attention than necessary. Let's just try on the clothes and get outta here," I whisper.

He sighs and unhooks the massive red bra off his chest, throwing it back on the rack. "Alright, alright, fine."

Ten minutes later, we're both standing in a large fitting booth in our underwear, our wigs thrown on a nearby chair. We've spent the past five minutes trying to figure out how to adjust our bra straps. These things are like a puzzle. After much confusion, we manage to get them to fit somewhat properly, although it still feels awkward.

I'm wearing a padded bra that makes me look like I've got tiny speed bumps on my chest. I guess it's a step up from being completely flat chested. Cartman literally has man boobs, so his bra looks a lot more natural on him. I giggle as I cup his boob chub, giving the bra a squeeze.

"Ey! This is sexual assault! Who said you could grope my tits?"

I grin as I trail my hands down to his hips. "I could grope you elsewhere if you want," I whisper. I can't help it, I've been trying to repress my hormones for the past week.

He freezes and gulps, looking at me in fear. Uh oh. Did I go too far? I instantly regret my horny boldness, but then he smiles, pulling me in for a kiss. It isn't long before I'm being pushed up against the changing room wall, our tongues in each others mouths and our hands down each others boxers.

I definitely never expected my first sexual experience to happen in a women's department store changing room, of all places. Afterwards, I feel extremely trashy and dirty. His face is all hot and flustered, so is mine. Thank god nobody is in here with us.

"Butters..that was good..we should do this more often," Eric pants, kissing me again.

"Just not in a public changing room next time," I whisper, giggling.

"Y-yeah," he agrees, blushing.

We still haven't even tried on our dresses. I grab his pink dress and hold it up to him, smiling. "I still wanna see what you look like in this!"

He smirks and grabs the dress from me. I watch as he pulls it over his head. He pulls his arms through the holes, but when he tries to get his head through, he gets stuck.

"Oof..this is tight.." he mutters, his arms sticking out in the air like a bird. I try to suppress a giggle at the sight. His head is buried in the dress as he squirms around trying to get out.

"Oh mah god!" he huffs, still trying to squeeze his arms back out. "I'm stuck! It's too tight! I'm being _squeezed!_ " he pants, stumbling around the dressing room stall with his vision blocked by the dress. I let out a sputtered laugh.

"This is not funny! Help me!" he yells.

I tug on the top of it and try to yank it off his arms, but as he pulls with his own force I end up stumbling over top of him. We tumble backwards into the wall, and then I hear a loud rip.

The arm holes on the dress have been ripped open. The lace material has been ripped as well. He frustratingly pulls himself out of it. "God dammit!" he yells, trying to catch his breath.

I can't hold in my laughter anymore. I fall back on the floor laughing.

"It's not funny, dammit!" he screams.

"Shh!" I warn him. "Should I go look for a bigger size?"

"No!" he huffs. "Just try on yours already."

I shrug and pull the yellow dress off the wall, carefully removing the hanging iron. I'm able to slip into it effortlessly. Luckily, I don't get stuck inside the dress like Eric did.

He rolls his eyes at the ease in which I was able to put it on. "Of course it fits you, you're a skinny bitch."

I shake my head as I fit the wig back on, and then smooth out my dress. "How do I look?" I ask, checking myself out in the mirror. I still look kinda boyish, but the padded bra makes me look more like a girl.

"Not bad," he nods, grinning. "I think it's a keeper."

* * *

Ten ripped dresses later, we still haven't found something that properly fits Eric. I'm starting to get worried. The sales lady was giving us looks as we walked past her with a pile of dresses in our arms.

He lets out an irritated breath, staring into the mirror at his body. "They just don't design nice dresses for curvy women, dammit!" he complains. "This is discrimination!"

"M-maybe these particular dresses just aren't designed for bigger boned frames," I shrug. "Should we keep looking?"

He rubs his temple and sighs. "Fine."

Later on, we bump into the same sales lady. "May I help you..ladies?" she asks, giving us a judgmental stare. I already don't like this woman, she seems like a real bitch.

"Um..yes..we're looking for a dress for my friend," I reply, exchanging a look with Eric. "Do you have anything that will fit hi-I mean, her size?"

Eric elbows me in the ribs. I arch my eyebrows at him. The lady just stands there with her arms crossed, watching our little exchange with amusement. "Hmm..I think I could find something. Follow me."

She directs us towards a section filled with large flowy dresses for old women, covered in tacky floral patterns. They kinda look like night gowns. I raise an eyebrow at this lady's odd choice. Maybe she misunderstood us? "Oh, umm, sorry ma'am, but we were looking for nice dresses, not pajama gowns."

"Honey, these are not pajama gowns, they're _mumus_. They're very comfortable, and a best seller among women of larger size," she explains, giving Eric a look up and down. How rude!

Eric looks insulted. " _Mumus??_ Are you seriously?? I'm looking for a fancy dress, not this ugly crap!"

She holds her hands out in defense. "They have a stretchy fit, and you can wear them for any occasion! Look, these ones have sequins on them. Very fancy!" She points to what looks like a bedazzled night gown for obese old ladies.

"I wouldn't be caught dead wearing these hideous things!" Eric yells. "Do I look like I'm 80 years old and laying in a hospital bed?? Ugh! We're _leaving_ this stupid store and never coming back! Come on But- _Margie_!"

He grabs my arm and drags me away. The sales associate says nothing, simply rolling her eyes at us as we leave. Jeez, what a bitch!

"Eric, what about my dress?" I whisper as he pulls me away.

"We can't snag it now, that lady's got her eyes on us. I'll come back and get it some other fucking time," he huffs, stomping down the aisles. We leave the store wearing our stolen bras, which we ripped the tags off in the dressing rooms. Thankfully, we get outta the store without any problems, because getting arrested for a stolen bra would be the end of my dignity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this story just somehow keeps getting more and more ridiculous as I write it. Feedback is appreciated! I am writing this for people's entertainment so I like to know what you think, if you guys are happy with where it's going or not! As always thanks for reading this far :D


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